From Nobody to Nightmare
by Aryuto
Summary: The demon child Jacob wanders the desert wastes of Isla Centrum. Found on the verge of death, an angel took pity upon him and saved the demon child. This is the backwater, this is the past story, of how a lowly goblin boy became the most feared dictator in all of Ente Isla and beyond. I suppose that all Demon Lords were children once.
1. Prologue: Angels

From Nobody to Nightmare Prologue

The rough and rocky red earth allured him greatly, as if inviting him to fall down upon it and rest. This was against his better judgment, with him knowing that if he did fall, he would hurt himself, what with the prickly pebbles upon hard sandstone. But in his current state, he wasn't one to judge. His tongue hung out of his mouth like a dog's, panting under the sweltering heat of the sun that broiled above in the Heavens. His aching hoofed feet trembled and seemed about to collapse underneath his own weight. He couldn't blame his poor feet, he had been stumbling through this barren wasteland for hours. Gazing through the haze of his eyelashes, his drooping eyes searched out nonexistent shelter in what seemed to be a wide expanse of red gravel and dirt. The fellow demons of his village called the desert "The Bloody Wastelands." It was the terrain located to the east of his village; a place only reserved for those who were truly desperate. Across the Wastelands lay…, well nothing. No one knew what was across it, yet why was he crossing through something without knowing his final destination? The answer was simple, because he was truly desperate in every sense of the word. Desperate and fearful for his own life that is. It was either this or going back to the raging Hell that was once his home and that was a certainty in death itself. Yet through here was almost a certainty to death, **almost.**There was a slight chance that he would come across a safe haven for him to recuperate and live his life out in seclusion in exile, a slight chance of survival, meaning life. A precious commodity that his parents and neighbors no longer had.

He was a young demon child, barely 14 summers old. His parents christened him the sacred name of Jacob. That in and of itself was an oddity among the demonic community, and he received all of the unwanted fanfare for it. Not the good kind mind you. The children at his village would jeer and tease. Sometimes, they would go to extremes by beating him up outside of the village and leave him lying in the fields for being such an angelic conformist. It was common knowledge throughout the land that demons and angels were mortal enemies. It was a miserable life, and he was the strange one, but he got used to it. Over time, the hateful whispers would fade and he would grudgingly be allowed to play with the other children. He was finally accepted into society.

Until that fateful day. A rival clan of demonic origins came riding upon the back of beasts into town. The simple village of farmers couldn't hope to hold out against a raiding force. The villagers came out of their meager homes holding out the simplest tribute that they could offer, but tribute was not what the raiders came for. He hid within the family's small wooden house when his mother came rushing in through the door. She ushered him through the back of the house and to the western exit of the village.

_It's not safe for you here, run! Run far away and don't come back._ Judging from the rising smoke and blood-torn screams, I couldn't question her. As I turned to run, she was already heading back. I didn't weep for a mother who sacrificed herself for her child. It just wasn't the demon's way.

All of these thoughts flashed through his mind, but he was finding it harder to think as the effects of dehydration set in. His mouth was dry and sticky, and he thirsted for water so bad. His right hand clutched his wounded side, which still dripped blood onto the ground even after hours, which should be long enough for the wound to scab over and close. An excruciating headache hammered on as if someone were trying to pound a nail through his skull. He managed to take a few more steps before he finally gave out and fell face first to the ground. Fatigue had finally caught up to him and the single thought that flashed through his mind was death. He had lost his tiny gamble on a safe haven and life as a result. Minutes seemed to stretch on into hours and he wondered why God didn't give him the mercy of finishing him off right now instead of dying a slow sweltering death. "Wait," he thought to himself, "of course God wouldn't take pity on me. I am a demon after all."

A shadow seemed to loom above him, giving a small respite from the sun's heat. His tapered ears picked up the sound of flapping wings. "Great, the vultures are here for me," he groaned. A pure golden feather drifted down and lay next to his face. He raised an arm and picked it up, even that small action was exhausting, but he was beyond caring of energy conservation anymore. He held it up to the sun, and it seemed to reflect rays of multi-colored light, like a rainbow. "So beautiful," he breathed. _To see such a beautiful thing so close to death must be bad luck on my part. I won't get to enjoy it so._

One cannot rule out the possibility of delirium at this point, though. He fingered the soft feather and curled it into his clawed palm. The flapping of wings grew louder and soon a pair of feet clad in straw sandals touched down on the red dirt right next to him. He tried to gaze upwards, but the sun was directly behind the figure and obscured his vision.

"F-friend or f-f-foe?" he rasped from his desert dry throat, making his voice sound scratchy and slightly unintelligible. A cool hand touched his fever-hot forehead. He shivered at the sudden contact. His head was tilted back and lips softly parted by gentle hands when a water pouch made from some unfortunate creature's skin was uncorked, and cool refreshing, life-giving water was poured down his open mouth. It was like heaven on Earth. A Samaritan act of kindness bestowed upon a sinful being. _Truly, this person is an angel, he thought._

Soft white wings enveloped him, shading him from the fury of the desert sun. From a combination of fatigue, dehydration, fear, and a pounding headache, he fell into the blissful black pit of unconsciousness. In that black pit, he found contentment and gratitude for his savior. _Thank you._

* * *

On a description of angels.

Artwork Insert "What Angels Wear" -J.R. Blackwell

Angels wear white.

Angels wear the blood red of martyrs. Angels wear the blue of a summon sky. Angels wear plum, amber and emerald. Angels wear wings on their shoulder blades, sharp golden wings to catch sunlight, to blind, to cut, to kill. Angels wear Roman robes, angels wear blue jeans, angels wear fur.

Angels wear leather jackets and ride motorcycles. Angels wear pale diaphanous strips of heaven-fabric, strategically placed by prudish hearts. Angels wear spider webs. Angels wear long black trench-coats that sway around their ankles. Angels wear peacock feathers, a thousand bright blue shining eyes.

Angels wear the paint of long dead artists, plastered to the ceiling of a chapel's artificial sky. Angels wear sea-foam from a primordial stew. Angels wear prayers. Angels wear messages, dreams of the dead, prophecies, divine will. Angels wear the clothes of the homeless. Angels wear high-tops, angels wear sandals, angels go barefoot.

Angels are naked.

Angels wear starlight.


	2. Chapter 1: Dreams

From Nobody to Nightmare Chapter 1: Dreams

On a description of dreams.

Artwork Insert "Dreams" –Langston Hughes

Hold fast to dreams

For if dreams die

Life is a broken-winged bird that cannot fly.

Hold fast to dreams

For when dreams go

Life is a barren field

Frozen with snow.

* * *

His eyelids flickered and his long lashes wavered as the boy stirred in his sleep. He dreamt of starlight and moonlight, he envisioned himself high up at the height of the stars and was being guided by a girl with white and black wings.

Then he dreamt of daylight, and suddenly he was back in his village. He could feel the summer heat beating down on his pale vampiric skin. He always had a natural pale complexion and his mother would always shove him out of the house to play in the sun with all the other kids. She wanted him bronzed like his father. "It suits the environment that we live in. If I wanted you white, we'd be living in the poles."

Speaking of his maternal figure, there she was. He spotted her sitting out in front of their crude wooden house with a piece of chalk and a clay tablet in hand. She stared off into the distance for a bit then scrawled something down. It was a strange thing, one he didn't always associate with his mother. He knew she was literate, but that didn't mean she always encouraged his written education.

His mother was hoofed like he was. They were both creatures of the plains. She had long and lean gazelle-furred legs and moved with a grace unmatched by any creature that walked on land. Another thing about her was that she always opted for simple clothing, and right now, she was wearing a light brown dress with a faded white top. Shame, they covered her gorgeous legs and only her ankles were visible.

She then looked up from her tablet and spotted him. Her eyes sparkled up in joy at seeing her son. One hand gestured for him to come over while the other put down her writing materials. "Jacob, there you are! I was wondering where you were. Come join me and write."

He stared in confusion at her and whispered, "Mother…I thought you died."

She smiled sadly at him. "Don't say such things Jacob. Have the other kids been talking? Have they been saying mean things? They have haven't they?"

He hesitated a bit before rushing forwards to her and was caught up in a sobbing embrace. "I seriously thought you died! The village burned down…and you told me to run away..." Wet tears ran down his cheeks and soaked his mother's dress.

She smiled down sadly at him. "Don't ever do that to me again…promise?" he sniffled.

"No. I'll never hurt you, my son. Never make you worry about me. Mommy's fine. Mommy's here." She placed a hand over his heart. (Demons have more than one…so…uhh) "I'll be here," she patted, "always." She gazed off into the distance with tears in her eyes.

"Oh my son, I will miss you so."

His eyes abruptly opened in response to the glaring morning light. He gazed around the room.

Jacob lay upon a king-sized bed of pinewood darkened to the color of rich chocolate. Most of his body was draped in a thin, white woolen blanket. His feet were poking out from under the white blanket and pointed in the general direction of the single panoramic window in the small 6 tatami room. (Coincidence?) It faced a southerly direction and the sun's rays graced the eggshell white walls with reflected light.

He started to panic as he realized he was in a totally foreign surrounding. "Definitely not my house," he muttered.

It was a wonderful lighting effect that lit up the dark room as if it was the middle of the day. That was the reasoning behind his circadian rhythm being disturbed and him missing out on a sweet reunion with his mother. He hissed at the sunlight and pulled the covers back up over his head.

A chuckle came from the left-side of the bed. "Ah, I see you are awake, demon child. You share the same dislike of the sun as I do."

_Crap_, he thought. An unknown person in the room? How could I miss that? I looked all around, I'm sure of it.

He peeked out from under the sheets and glared at the person talking. It was a woman. The first thing that crossed his mind was that she was dangerous. She was robed in a white house-keeping dress and sat upon a high wooden stool with her feet resting on the rungs. Her hands were folded one over the other upon her lap. And she gazed at him with her head cocked to the side with a hint of a quirky smile on her lips. It was all innocent and harmless until you got to the wings.

They were enormous and enveloping. They were cramped up lose to her body, as if forming a shield of sorts around her sides. If he were to place a guess on how wide they would be when fully stretched, it would be around 12 feet. What was strange though was that one side, the right side, was midnight black while the left side was pearlescent white. The black wing seemed to have a shimmering haze that made the parts of her covered figure fade into nothingness.

An optical illusion. One that made her invisible to others even in broad daylight. A dangerous opponent to have indeed, he thought.

She held out her empty hands, as if sensing his apprehension. "I mean you no harm, demon child. If I wanted to kill you, I would've left you in that desert to die."

He glared at her. An angel in the room. A glass window. He calculated his chances of escape. _Demons were only treated by angels if they had something sinister planned._ Fear was tightening its cold fist around his chest. He was trapped. He was going to die. She was going to do something horrible to him. What was it, torture? Sickeningly cruel kindness, then torture? Seduction then torture? His demonic village friends were very imaginative in their "what if(s)" game.

To understand the natural fear between the two species, one only needed to look at their past histories. Angels were generally seen as holy figures who stood for righteousness and God. Demons saw them as flying, white oppressors who conquered and purged them for living space for the humans.

His strong leg muscles tensed, then he sprang out from the bed, flinging the sheets at her face. His lean and wiry body collided with her and they were rolling around in a kicking mass on the floor. "Take that, angel!" Jacob cried and pummeled her with his claws and fists.

"Stop, stop!" she cried with her hands covering her face. Scratches appeared on her arms and golden beads started dripping.

Jacob's eyes widened. She was weakened. He was drawing blood. He was about to commit his first kill!

"Enough!" Her wings flapped and he was flung back into the wall by the sudden gale-like force. She sauntered furiously over to him and he tried to fight back, the sudden surge in courage now withered until he was cowering in fear.

She threw him back onto the bed. The cuts and wounds on her arms were already closing. "Is this how you treat your savior? You are a guest in my house and you dare attack your host? What manners do you even have?" Leather straps suddenly materialized in her arms and she used it to tie his arms and feet to the bed.

He was immobilized and couldn't protest against her ministrations. "Magic," he whispered the words like a curse. A rare ability among demons, one only the stronger of his kind possessed. There was no hope that a lowly goblin like him could acquire a grasp over the art, much less resistance to it.

"Mmh. Yes, magic. You forced me, so this is all on you. I hoped to resolve this through peace, but nooo. You and your kind are all the same: barbaric, vicious, ill-mannered, ill-tempered, ill-everything!" She jerked the straps furiously and tightened it till he positively couldn't breathe.

"Sorry, sorry," she muttered and loosened it up a bit. "But for now, you're grounded...err..."

"Jacob. My name's Jacob. There, that's my name, happy with my manners? Now what's yours?"

"Laylah." She huffed and blew a strand of pale white locks out of her face. "I would love to shake your hand now that you've started to behave, but..." she glared critically at his forcefully restrained form. "You haven't earned that right yet."

"You could...untie me you know?"

She turned around without a word and walked out of the room.

Jacob sighed. This had been a rather rough morning. She was an angel. And angels weren't so easy to kill. His heart(s) was calming down and slowed its pumping of adrenaline into his blood stream. As far as he could discern, he wasn't in any immediate danger.

_I suppose I'll stick through with this woman. See what she has to offer. Then make my escape later. _He tried, unsuccessfully, to sleep in broad daylight. The throbbing of his wounded side came back. _Damn, I shouldn't have struggled._ Wincing painfully, he settled for resting his head against the back wall, or as close as he can get while squirming through his bonds.

More or less, it was uncomfortable.

* * *

Author's Note: For those of you unfamiliar with the HataMaou universe. Laylah is Emilia's mother. In the light novels, Maou gave a special mention to Laylah that she did indeed save him when he was a lowly goblin. She indeed was the one who taught Maou about the human world. This story's focus is to go in-depth on that special relationship and the development of Maou from a demon child to a demon lord. I sincerely hope you enjoy this story as well as my writing. Through practice, comes improvement so stick around!


	3. Chapter 2: Food?

From Nobody to Nightmare Chapter 2: Food

On a description of food.

Artwork Insert "The Health-Food Diner" -Maya Angelou

The Health Food-Diner

No sprouted wheat and soya shoots

And Brussels in a cake,

Carrot straw and spinach raw,

(Today, I need a steak).

Not thick brown rice and a rice pilaw

Or mushrooms creamed on toast,

Turnips mashed and parsnips hashed,

(I'm dreaming of a roast).

Health-food folks around the world

Are thinned by anxious zeal,

They look for help in seafood kelp

(I count on breaded veal).

No smoking signs, raw mustard greens,

Zucchini by the ton,

Uncooked kale and bodies frail

Are sure to make me run

to

Loins of pork and chicken thighs

And standing rib, so prime,

Pork chops brown and fresh ground round

(I crave them all the time).

Irish stews and boiled corn beef

and hot dogs by the scores,

or any place that saves a pace

For smoking carnivores.

* * *

The demon child smiles smugly in his seat. It was an uncomfortable wooden Windsor, much like every single furniture in the house. Uncomfortable and wooden seemed to go well together. Never comfortable and wooden, that included plush, leather upholstery. The dinner table that he sat in front of right now was wooden, but with the added perk of only the outer rim being a woodsy white pine. The rest was made of gilded glass, blown in the bellows to a clear crystal quality.

His clawed fingers rapped and tapped at the glass. This is a nice home. She definitely must have some status to afford all this.

It was a cheery room to say the least. There was a well-placed window by the dining table that brightened the mood as well as the meal. That was part of the reason for his extreme satisfaction.

It hadn't even been a full hour before she invited him. The angel had already prepared breakfast in anticipation of him waking. Breakfast may be made, but she had no intention of spoon-feeding him. A patient recovering from a near-death experience that is. He gingerly rubbed his bandaged side and winced at the spike of pain it caused.

She never should have tied me up in the first place, he grumbled. Nevertheless, I am untied. The winged woman doesn't punish so hard.

He thought quite deeply on his current situation. The angel seemed willing to care for him in his current state.

It was an oddity in and of itself. Angels do not help Demons. Angels war with Demons. Angels kill Demons. And Demons kill Angels.

He shuddered at the thought and a cold grip seemed to take hold over his heart. It was only now that the reality started setting in; he had almost killed someone.

"Is this the true me?" he whispered. He closed his eyes and brooded over his actions.

A soft curtain parted and wind swept in, carrying the scent of breakfast. His keen senses could pick out the earthy grains of porridge and an unknown steaming broth. His eyes snapped open as bowls and dishes clinked softly on the table.

"Time to eat, Jacob. Wake up. Don't doze off. We've got a busy day ahead of ourselves and you're going to need your energy," the small, petite angel twirled in with two bowls in hand and the rest flying near her shoulders and on top of her head.

He stared in amazement at the absurd sight in front of him.

"Magic," she stated simply.

Then he stared down at the bowls of food and saw it for what it really is.

"White porridge," he commented. "And…" he picked up a heavy silver spoon and raked through the wooden bowl. "Vegetable soup." You could almost hear the ring of disappointment that echoed from his last breath.

"And?" she inquired.

"I can't eat this. Where's the meat? Where's the protein?" He waved his hands in exaggerated protest.

"There's tofu in the soup. And here," she plopped down a bowl of assorted nuts ranging from salted peanuts, macadamia, walnuts, cashews and stray almonds. There were also seeds, such as sesame and chia. In addition, there were two bowls of plain creamy white yogurt. Jacob assumed that the one with the larger serving was for him.

"To go with the nuts, or shall I say the yogurt. Either way, I mix them both. Tastes better that way."

"Who could bear to live a life without eating meat? I'm the patient in recovery here. Aren't I supposed to eat what I like? And might I remind you that red meat is necessary for blood production, if you're forgetting the blood loss I suffered as I was near death!"

This was certainly a strange concept to Jacob. Everyone at home ate meat, and sometimes, that was all they ate. The village plains weren't quite suitable to grow crops. The only plant products they received were from foraging, which usually brought dried herbs and fruit from the rare golden trees heavily laden with fruit. The other source was the yearly trade when the desert caravans and the wind riders came in autumn. That was one of the happiest times of the year.

The traders would always come with new and fantastical objects that fascinated the minds of everyone. Everyone that is except my father, who would just merely look at them, as if he were seeing something familiar, but unimpressive. Besides the trade materials, the traders would bring stories of their travels to faraway lands. He especially liked the one about the place where water turned into a solid that you could walk upon. "Impossible," he had once said to such an absurd idea. Looking at that word now just about summed the situation he was in right now, _impossible._ He was never going to get his way with this woman.

"You unfortunately, have no choice in the matter. You're living under a Laylahship here. I'm a vegetarian, Jacob. Accept it. As for your blood loss, spinach, beans and lentils can just about fix it. That's going to be our lunch." Her voice was hard and commanding, yet willful and persuasive. One hand pointed a finger at him, as if it was the hand of God dealing justice. Her other hand was on her hips, like that of a stern mother lecturing her child. Either way, she had all the qualities of a great orator, albeit a cruel one.

"This is an affront to my cultural heritage. I refuse to eat the food of my prey!" he argued.

She shrugged. "So sad our differences can't be resolved at the dinner table. The door's right there, I trust you can show yourself out." A pale white finger pointed to a black wooden door.

"Fine." He pushed his chair away from the table and took a shaky step forward. It was such a difficulty to go the short distance of 6 meters. His breathing grew rough and his walking grew strained. He swore he could hear the black and white winged angel snickering quietly behind his back. Finally, his hand grasped the brass door handle and turned it.

The door was surprisingly heavy, but slid smoothly on its well-oiled hinges. It swung open to reveal a stunning view of the desert. Beyond the horizon, as far as the eye could see, was a sea of sand with rising waves making gentle indentations. Then there were the stray and majestic pillars of sandstone that rose to astounding heights. Laylah's small cottage home lay upon one of those high end plateaus which hovered over the valley floor. He stared down tastelessly at the valley floor, and to the best of his estimate, it was about 100 feet down.

"Fancy taking a fall would you?" a voice peeped at his back. "Need a shove?"

He jumped in fright and turned around. "Laylah! Stop that. It's not funny."

She stared at him inquisitively with a hand under her chin, and then a small smile appeared which then twisted into a sinister grin. "You're afraid of heights aren't you?"

Jacob couldn't help but swallow. "N-no."

"You are, you are!" she jeered and laughed. Jacob's cheeks flushed with color at her realization. Her eyes twinkled in merriment, and was that also mischief?

"Let's see Jacob, if you are to live with me, and to be a disciple of mine, you're going to have to confront your deepest fears. This includes heights."

"Why would I want to be a disciple of yours?" he said sourly. Then he added in an undertone, "Why would anyone?"

Laylah suddenly got serious. "Because, if you intend to get off of this rock, you're going to have to do it by jumping off, that is, if you survive. You're welcome to do it right now, assuming you survive the fall, highly doubtful. The key to this is flight. Trust me, it's going to save your life."

"Flight? How am I supposed to fly? I don't have wings, not like you."

She stared at me with an incredulous, 'are you kidding me?' look. "Magic," she stated simply. "Now are you going to be my disciple or not?"

"You mean right now?" To which she nodded.

Many thought processes ran through Jacob's mind, first and foremost, was this a trap? Was she going to teach him some mumbo-jumbo then sooner or later, she's going to shove him off the cliff? Could she even be trusted? Then onto some peculiar methods to kill the angel, as normal methods have shown ineffective in the midst of her magical ability to heal wounds. He was left with no choice, except the one offered. All in all, the decision he came to then was something that he thought was right. It was something that he didn't regret in the future.

"Yes. I do. Now how are we going to do this?"

"First off, I'm going to need your dominant hand."

"What is this, some sort of fancy ritual?" She glared hard at him, to which he proffered his right hand to her.

A black and white winged angel gazed at the demon child for what seemed like eternity, seeking out the sincerity of his words and the truthfulness within his heart. At last, she whipped out a small steel knife with an emblazoned wooden handle from her white robes. There was fear in the demon child, but he did not flinch. She took his hand in hers and began the words.

"Oh, Jacob of demonkind, my bond is to you. From master to apprentice, my trust is in you. To never part, to be subservient, to be loyal and faithful, to be pious, to be responsible, can you? Through smoke and fire, through frost and ice, I'll save you as you save my life."

As she finished the last words, she took the knife and slid it quickly across her palm. She whispered to him his words.

And from his lips, fell, "Oh Laylah, of angelkind, my bond is to you. My answer is my acceptance, swear on it, I do. To never part, to be subservient, to be loyal and faithful, to be pious, to be responsible, I can. Through smoke and fire, through frost and ice, I'll save you as you save me life." Then he took the knife from her and slid it across his palm.

They joined their arms together and raised it towards the sky. A blood bond forged between two unlikely beings was made with the sun and stars and God as their witness. Never had it been done before and hopefully, it would be done again.

"You're still eating veggies, you know that, right?"

"Oh, shut up." Jacob winced at the pain in his right hand. To his amazement, the wound was already sealing minutes after the cut was made on his palm. In a matter of seconds, even the pain went away. "Amazing," he breathed.

She came closer to see what he was so awed at. "Oh yeah, one of the benefits you get for being bonded to an angel. You attain their...prowess you could say. Pretty soon, you won't need those bandages," she gestured at his side.

They went back inside and finished up their breakfast. If you could recall, there were two bowls of yogurt set down. One was in a larger bowl, one was in a smaller bowl. Jacob was very mistaken to claim the larger one as his, and received something akin to a mortal injury to the head.

Duly noted. Future suggestion: give all the yogurt to her.


	4. Chapter 3: Magyk is Myte

From Nobody to Nightmare Chapter 3: Magyk is Myte

Artwork Insert

On the matter of Magic.

**"Magic" by Coldplay**

Call it magic  
Call it true  
Call it magic  
When I'm with you  
And I just got broken  
Broken into two  
Still I call it magic  
When I'm next to you

And I don't, and I don't and I don't, and I don't  
No, I don't,  
It's true  
I don't, no, I don't, no, I don't, no, I don't want anybody else but you  
I don't, no, I don't, no, I don't, no, I don't  
No, I don't,  
It's true  
I don't, no, I don't, no, I don't, no, I don't want anybody else but you

Ooooh ooh ooh

Call it magic  
Cut me into two  
And with all your magic  
I disappear from view  
And I can't get over  
Can't get over you  
Still I call it magic  
You're such a precious jewel

And I don't, and I don't and I don't, and I don't  
No, I don't,  
It's true  
I don't, no, I don't, no, I don't, no, I don't want anybody else but you  
I don't, no, I don't, no, I don't, no, I don't  
No, I don't,  
It's true  
I don't, no, I don't, no, I don't, no, I don't want anybody else but you

Wanna fall  
I fall so far  
I wanna fall  
I fall so hard  
And I call it magic  
And I call it true  
I call it magic

Ooooh ooh ooh  
Ooooh ooh ooh  
Ooooh ooh ooh  
Ooooh ooh ooh

And if you were to ask me  
After all that we've been through  
Still believe in magic  
Oh yes I do  
Oh yes I do  
Yes I do  
Oh yes I do  
Of course I do

* * *

After breakfast came lunch, and after lunch came dinner. It was an expected cycle that would go on for the many days that he would stay in the small cottage atop a mesa. That of course was added with his displeasure of the non-meat meals.

"I've got to give you credit Laylah, this is the first meal you've made that didn't have a core vegetable ingredient," Jacob said through a mouthful of mushrooms and wild rice.

The wooden table with the glass centerpiece was large enough to occupy four people; six if you squeezed in. But tonight, it only served two individuals who are so unlikely to coexist peacefully in the same room together. It was a ridiculous and unbelievable notion at best. A demon, albeit not fully matured, forced into civility and domestics under the roof of a female angel. The dinner table was outlined so that each individual sat on the opposite side of the other, maintaining a separate and equal distance so that if one acted upon the other, the latter would still be able to react in defense. But that wasn't the goal of either individual tonight, or at least not at the moment.

Above them hovered a glass chandelier which illuminated their evening meal. Upon the glass table lay a set amount of dinnerware: porcelain plates, heavy and gilded silver spoons, forks, and knives. The demon child was especially adept at wielding the knife. The blade flickered from finger to finger as he adjusted his grip and brought down certain dismemberment upon his unfortunate victims-the vegetarian food. The table was of a see-through glass, so the angel got a view of his furry hoofed feet kicking back and forth playfully while he performed his merriment.

"What do you mean?" Laylah asked. She had a pair of chopsticks hovering over her rice bowl, ready to dig in at the command of her stomach. "It's just mushrooms and white garlic sautéed with oyster sauce."

"Precisely," Jacob pointed out. "Mushrooms aren't vegetables. They're fungi. Fun guys, hehe." He sliced open the head of one such mushroom with his knife to reveal the delicate flesh inside. To Jacob, dissection was a very fascinating subject. He liked to peer into the insides of anything he could get his hands on, whether it be living or nonliving, and expose its workings to the world.

"That's true huh. Where'd you learn that?"

"My parents." He popped one half of the sliced mushroom into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. Hot and oozing with juices that made the perfect blend of umami. Both fat and salty at the same time, but not quite the same as both. It could be described as a long lasting and mouthwatering with a coating sensation over the tongue's taste receptors that leaves a lasting impression.

"Well they must be some very nice and knowledgeable people. I wish I had the pleasure of making their acquaintances. Who ever heard of a cultured demon?"

"Well, there's the Demon Lord, Maou-Satan of course…"

_Tcch._ "That was a rhetorical question. You weren't supposed to answer me. After all, there's no need to remind me of that embarrassment aeons ago."

Jacob gasped in amazement. "You mean that you personally met the legendary Demon Lord himself? The one and only, the true, original Demon Lord? Errmagawd! Tell me more, please!"

"Well, he was a very cultured and civilized individual. He ran his own court of demons that governed the demonic realm and brought a semblance of order compared to the general chaos of the modern day. He wielded imperial might that allowed him to bargain with angels. I remember him as exquisitely dashing and handsome. And of course, tall. Much taller than a shrimp like you." She held up a hand and measured out his diminutive 5'5''.

"You didn't have to point that part out. I can still grow, I've got years ahead of me." He proclaimed that as a fact. Coming out from a young individual's mouth, it sounded too cute for Laylah to not poke fun with.

"Trust me youngling, I've seen enough varieties and types of demons, and they've already made most of their growth spurt by the time they're 14 summers old, umm, how old were you again?"

"Fourteen summers," he mumbled.

"Ahh, exactly."

"B-but legend has it that he wasn't the strongest or the tallest of his generation. No one would've predicted that he would become the one who unites and lord over all demon-kind."

She gave him the hard stare. "Exactly. No one knows your future, except God, and even that he doesn't share with us, his agents. It's kind of frustrating sometime, I mean, Jacob, you have such a promising future. I wonder how you'd turn out, whether standing on the side of good, or the traditional evil your kind is capable of."

"But the worst crime the Dark Lord could never atone for, is his unbridled war of world domination against all the other realms. He made great advancements too, and it wasn't until the full might of angelic intervention did his empire spanning 2/3 of the known world come to an end. Those war days were quite an embarrassment. It's something that all of angel-kind best forgets. It was when the might of Heaven was seriously challenged by a usurper and the demon lord joined Heaven's civil war on the opposing side of God."

He puffed out his chest. "Well I'm going to be the next Demon Lord of course. A good Demon Lord who'll bring peace and order not just to demon-kind, but all the realms as well."

She giggled at first, then bursts into a full-out laugh. Jacob could tell that this was genuinely funny to her. It was the first time that he made her laugh for real. All the other times, she would giggle and smile politely. "Aha, I'm sorry. That's rather ambitious of you." She wiped her eyes. "The notion is quite comical. Who've ever heard of a polite or kind would-be Demon Lord?"

"But it's true," he spluttered. "One day, I will unite all demon-kind and we can finally rise from our primal origins and move into the future of progress. It was what my parents wanted and taught me to do."

Out of the corner of her breath, Laylah muttered, "I knew it. They were too nice and sophisticated to be good."

The demon child's keen ears caught on to that. "The Demon Lord idea was mine. Original credit. Although it's not like the other demonic boys didn't want to be a King themselves. My parents just wanted me to live a sophisticated life, they only wanted to teach me how to live a different life aside from the carnage and death filled one that most demons lived through. It's a harsh reality of life, and some children out there in the world will never know the caress of their mother's hands on their cheek, or the smile of pride from their father. I want to end this world of suffering."

Laylah sensed sadness to him. She tried to change the subject, "Your village, err, tell me more about it. What was it that you liked, who were the people living in it?"

"Well, there was the kind village shaman. He's surprisingly youthful for his profession. He always gives these high-pitched hymns that were beautiful yet annoying at the same time. But the coolest part about him was that he could do magic. Sure, it was blood magic, and he would always have these bandages over his arms after he performed a healing over a sick child, but it was cool. I tried to have him teach me a few tricks, but my father wouldn't let me.

"Hmm, why not?"

"Because I would have to be his apprentice. And being a shaman is not going to make me the next Demon Lord."

Laylah giggled. "It's so nice to see a young person with such ambition and passion. You might make something that the world has never beheld, Jacob. I'd just like to be there to see it. So when did you make that mindset?"

Jacob frowned "It wasn't that long ago, a few weeks maybe. I had spent 14 years of my life looking at the hardship of village life. It was harsh, but everyone was happy. And then my village…I-I'd rather not talk about it."

"Why not?" although she was tentative to ask.

"It's too painful." His voice tightened, as if trying to suppress tears. "Hey," he said wiping his eyes with a sleeve, "I wonder where you get all these ingredients. I mean, we do live in the middle of a desert."

"Oh, I get them from a merchant of mine. Divine beings don't require the ingestion of food, although the added benefit is flavor into one's boring life."

"Really? And blasting demons with sacred power isn't fun enough?"

"Oh, surely you jest…unless you want me to do it to you? After resting for that period of time, maybe you're ready for another lesson about who runs this house."

"Nah, I'll pass. Let's get back to the lessons. As you were saying. About teaching me magic, I mean…as your disciple, I must learn the ways of your mastery of magic."

"Right. Hmm, let's see. This is so much harder than having a book handy to explain everything. Magic. If I were to put it, it is the realization of one's goals, hopes and dreams manifested into a physical form. Say you want to kill those demons that killed your parents and burned your village. With magic, you can stun them into unconsciousness with a single glance, you can bend their mind to your will with a single word, and you can raze cities with a wave of your hand. Although it just doesn't happen magically without no inherent reason or explanation. It's the core of what you want so bad that cultivates this power and turns it into reality, say an invisible hand to choke your foes or a rain of fireballs to raze the land."

She painted pictures of absolute control with words. They were beautiful words that he got a sense of. "Basically, you're saying that my emotions feed my magic. But if you can just want something so bad, then why hasn't all the wishes in the world been fulfilled yet? It doesn't seem very hard to want something really bad."

"Correct. It does seem too easy. There are some prerequisites for one to be able to use magic. It is not available to all. Only a select few are bestowed this gift by God. Chosen at birth, and used throughout life, I believe that everyone who can wield magic sees their powers grow greater with age and understanding. That's why ancient beings, such as angels who've been here since the very beginning, are the masters of this art. Yet there are some paradigms that we do not understand, such as the theory of possibly learning magic. Or the even more nefarious ideas that magic can be acquired through the sacrifice of a divine being. Heaven has conducted investigations on these topics and deem them myth."

"So are there any branches of magic that I should know about? Like the divisions each Angel specializes in?"

"Magical use is divided between that of the honest and holy art of Heaven and the decrepit dark arts of Hell. Angels and their followers bask in the light of God, and God bestows upon us his grace and the means of carrying out his will through the Heavenly arts. Each Angel, every individual among our host of 100,000,000,000 has a unique trait and specialization as far as abilities go. God has thought of 100 million ways to create perfect and incorruptible beings, and every single one of us chooses our own path, our own skill set. Higher ranked angels among the Heavenly Host get to select more than one specialization."

Jacob frowned and looked down at the floor. It seemed that there was no magic available for Laylah to teach him, if it was exclusively for angels. His disappointment led to this form of concentration. The wooden tiles were aligned so symmetrically without even a slight gap to know that it was placed there before. It was as if the entire floor was one piece of wood, and the planks were just painted decorations. "Your floor…"

"Magic," she smiled.

"My mind-" he said with narrowed eyes. There was a sudden sense of suspicion in this angelic figure just sitting a bare few meters away from him. It brought on a sense of danger, as if this small distance was inconsequential if she wanted to kill him.

"Magic." If possible, her sweet and innocent smile was starting to look sinister and mischievous. Right then and there, Jacob knew that things weren't going to go well for him. She was omnipotent and now he found out that she's omniscient as well. Mind reading was a really unfair ability.

There was the kitchen knife hidden inside his left pant pocket. Not to mention the concoction of poison he discreetly added to her tea from the assortment of neatly organized medicinal herbs in her cupboard.

They say antidote and poison are two easily interchangeable things. All that differed was the dosage. He thought about this theory back then about trying to kill her. Looking back at it now, he shouldn't have tried to test a theory he knew wasn't going to work.

"You're a very funny person Jacob. There's a great intelligence in you and I enjoy peering into your mind and sifting through your thoughts. You act so rationally, but this act of attempted harm just isn't like you. You try to gather information, yet you try to kill me at the same time. How are you going to get your information if I'm dead? How are you going to get off this rock if I'm dead? You're a brilliant boy who can scheme up murder in the home, but I don't think you've thought this through."

"Or maybe you're wrong," he pressed. "Maybe I never intended to get out of this house. Maybe I wanted to take you down with me. A life for a life. Equivalent trade. You die. I die. The only difference is that I die weeks or maybe months later. Years, who knows? I've taken a very careful account of this house in the past few days and your supplies seem to be delivered automatically by bird. You always seem to leave a note outside the door when the bird comes. I'm guessing it's a list of the supplies you want. I can live on top of this mountain for the rest of my long life. Your library would do a very good job of entertaining me."

Her smile turned into a chuckle, then a snicker, then a full out laugh that was very different from the genuine one she gave just a little while ago. This laugh was shivering to the bone. It brought a sense of foreboding, that the person whose voice this unholy sound came out of was slightly deranged, possibly mad. "Oh, you've driven me to hysterics. You have thought this through."

"No. Right there, you just told me how far you could see into my mind. That little speech back there, was made recently. The plan to kill you, was made about a half hour ago. You seemed sincere in your conversation and it wasn't until now that you sensed my malevolent intent. Your sense of foresight is not foresight, but rear sight. You know what I thought in the past after it's been thought. You don't know what I'm thinking in the present. Laylah, you can try to play it off as intuition, where only the accuracy of your guessing can get others to believe you can read them. However, I'm not a book. Quite a useless skill I must say. Although I didn't intend on killing you. I just thought that one aloud as hard as I could." He folded his hands over his lap and sat with one legged crossed over the other, as if they were both part of an important diplomatic negotiation and he had just played his trump card, awaiting her delicious reaction.

"Well, your past thinking about my murder is correct." Her delicate hands hooked up the delicate tea cup and took a long draught. It was the cup of poisoned tea. "I say, this does not taste like tea. More like a befouled concoction of sour herbs that clash horribly together." She drank all of it just to prove her point and tossed the teacup over her shoulder. It fell hard on the wooden floor and shattered upon impact into a thousand pieces of sharp earthenware.

"You were right, mortal poison doesn't ail divine beings. We're too incorruptible for that," then gave him a wink. "Useless all in all, mind analysis from past events allows one to carefully sift through the memories in exact detail without missing a single hint that one mightn't encounter in real time. The mind isn't very good at multitasking, unless it's a female mind of course.

She grabbed the heavy silver knife from the table and placed the blade side against her throat. "Should I or should you?" Her breathing remained normal despite the craziness of the situation.

_Damn it. You really have to make me choose, didn__'__t you?_

Jacob reached over and with his clawed hands gently pried away her hands which tightly gripped the blade. "That won't be necessary." He knew after all that a slit throat isn't enough to take her down.

Laylah gave him a smile. "I respect that natural bestiality in you. However, if you intend to kill me, be more creative about it. Otherwise, don't bother at all. You are my disciple and until you can defeat me, you will still remain my disciple." _If it was up to me, you__'__d stay with me forever. Such a cute demon child._

She gave a little cough. Then several followed the initial. They were wet rasping coughs that racked the individual's body and when you were occupied by a cough, there really wasn't much you could do about it until the fit passes. The intensity soon built up that she was retching.

Jacob quickly rushed over from his side of the table. "You alright? Need some water? A drink." _Right, a drink. _He glanced at the empty saucer which previously held the teacup. _She really underestimated me there. But I never intended for this to happen. I was supposed to switch her teacup with mine right before she drank, but DAMN, I forgot. Careless._

He rushed over to the cupboard and quickly filled another glass of water. Hurriedly, he brought over the liquid to ease her throat. She took the cup from him with wordless thanks and drank, only to hurl it back out along with the contents of the dinner. He gently patted her back and tried to sooth her with calming words. "There there. You never should've taken that dare."

"Oh shut up you devil," she snarled. She grabbed the water again and took a swig. Her throat was burning incessantly, like that of a fire hot desert, and the water only provided a brief respite. _Keh. Keh. Uweh!_ She simply didn't have the energy to do anything for herself and slumped back into her seat, her eyes focused on the overhead chandelier.

A head of black hair crossed her field of vision and familiar red eyes with black slits gazed down worriedly at her. He was mouthing incomprehensible words that she was too far off to hear. _He probably is saying my name. _She felt her body shake at the urging of his hands. Then she wasn't staring at the chandelier anymore, but gazed at the young, boyish face which should be happy and carefree, but was now marred with worry and panic. His arms wrapped around her back and her legs and he was carrying her bridal style. The environment around him changed from lighted glass rooms, to dark corridors, then to eggshell white walls darkened by the night, but she only focused on the constant being that was him. _Young boy, you shouldn__'__t be this sad. I should make you feel better. I should make you feel happier._

He set her down upon his bed, as it was the only room he knew of. Plus, her room was locked and it was unseemly to barge into a lady's room even if she wasn't there. He was tempted to in spite of the situation, but for convenience's sake, he'll just use his. Jacob looked at Laylah worriedly. _Is she going to be alright? No, no she won__'__t. That poison was potent, I myself made sure of it. I gave it my blessing, just as the shaman told me to when concocting potions to give it the added strength. I can__'__t rely on her words that her Holy strength will overcome this._ He unfurled the neatly folded white blanket and draped it around her petite frame. He took note of her shivers. _Maybe I__'__m going into that room of hers after all. Need more blankets._

_An antidote! I need to make an antidote._ He dashed off into the kitchen and quickly returned with a glass of water, which he carefully tipped into Laylah's mouth, making sure she drank and swallowed an adequate amount until he was satisfied. By this, he meant the whole cup. He dashed back into the kitchen with the empty glass and went to procure his ingredients. One could hear him rattling around the cupboards and grinding mortar and pestle. But of course, no one was there except Laylah. And she was laying on the bed with a dazed look in her eyes. No state to make any judgments.

It was dark in the white room. The curtains were drawn closed, although she could tell they were wrenched open by the faint sound of it and the room was now lit by pale moonlight. It didn't seem so dark and scary, but dark and comforting, as if she could fall asleep. _Yes, maybe I should fall asleep. I should take a long sleep and never wake up. What__'__s the use of waking up to a new and harsh reality when there__'__s the familiarity of sleep and darkness? Yes. I am darkness. I am night. I am the Angel of Night, falling asleep._


	5. Chapter 4: Imanity

From Nobody to Nightmare Chapter 4: Imanity

Artwork Insert

On the matter of Humans. –Sora Nai, No Game No Life LN Volume 1, Chapter 4

"Imanity…since the beginning of the Ten Oaths has had continuous failures due to predicament of not having war, and we are now left with our last city &amp; country. Why has this happened?! Was it because the previous king failed? Or was it because we are ranked 16th? Or was it because we are unable to wield magic? Or was it because we are the most inferior race? Does this mean we are fated to walk the path of destruction?!–sorry but all of those answers are wrong! … Is it then because our race is violent?! Or is it because we specialize in war!? …No! The reason why we were able to fight and survive is because we are weak!"

"Because of our weakness, we trained our eyes, ears and the ability to think. Learning how to survive, that's our trait as humans! The human species can't use magic and can't even perceive it-but because we are weak, we have the wisdom to run away from magic and the intelligence to see though it! We don't have any extraordinary senses. But because we are weak, by learning and gaining experience, we gained the wisdom to achieve the unachievable—to predict the future…Rejoice! We are humans; we are the most talented people! Precisely because we were born without any ability, we can achieve anything. This is the will of the weakest race!"

-Sora to all of Imanity

* * *

The sun unfailingly rose once again, and the dawn of a new day has begun. This is and of itself can be symbolic, the rebirth of life, the passage of life, the renewal of life, and the death of life. However, in a cottage on top of a desert mesa, there lay a small window lit room. Morning brightness illuminated the eggshell white walls and disrupted the circadian rhythm of a certain angel.

Laylah's eyes flickered open and was blinded by the sunlight reflected off her window. She tilted her head to the side and blinked a few times to adapt her eyesight. Daytime wasn't always the best of times for her. She was an angel of night. The shadows suited her better than sunlight.

Her breath came out light and shallow, yet steady. She lifted a thin hand of hers high up in front of her face and inspected it. Dark blue veins spider webbed across her pale skin. Her hand fell down gently onto the soft bed.

She glanced to her right and saw Jacob sitting on the wooden stool, his head bent down and dozing while his back was slumped over. Laylah smiled. _Isn__'__t this ironic. Just yesterday, I sat in that chair and he was in this bed._ Her sickly pale palm reached out and grabbed one of his clawed hands and held it there. Her thumb rubbed circles into his inner palm and he stirred. She prodded him hard and managed to tilt him over onto the floor.

No one liked a rude awakening. Sometimes, it was the wet water splashed to the face. This time, it was being shoved off a chair. Jacob woke up with a start and a snarl. The fall onto the hard wooden floorboards definitely shocked him. The high pitched giggle from the bed only served to anger him further. "Laylah, having fun so soon." The guttural growl from his throat would have scared any other, but to her, she only fell into a fit of laughter.

"Oh, oh. Stop stop stop. Heh. Your reactions are too serious. Lighten up." She cocked her head to the side and stared down at him from on top of her bed.

"That must be a hard thing for you to say. You almost died."

"Oh don't accuse me. Accuse yourself. Careless boy. I could've died!" Yes, it was always about her. This form of arrogance and narcissism was on another level than what Jacob had ever handled in his life. "You gave me permission to kill you!" Quite frankly, that was true. Don't get him wrong, he tried his very best. Guess it wasn't enough to take down a certain narcissistic female.

"After you almost succeeded! There was no way I thought you were serious."

"Well I'm serious now. And I truly understand," he came up closer to the bed and held her hands in his, "I need you as much as you need me right now. There's sitting right in front of me and I'm too stupid to not take advantage of the potential knowledge she can teach me. However, in this relationship, you are not master and I am not disciple, see how well that ended up. We shall be partners."

Laylah gave a dramatic sigh. "Whatever you say. As long as you listen. I'm still the dominant one in this relationship. Don't try to pull your machismo over me, young man. I'm not through with you just yet. And, I'm not even sitting, I'm sleeping. Help me up."

A gentleman wouldn't hesitate to give a lady his assistance, but Jacob was hesitant about offering her any assistance. He proffered her a callous, clawed hand in assistance and she took it in her soft, velvety hands. She pulled herself up and gave a cry pain. "My sides," she whispered.

He took a look at them. The skin wasn't punctured or anything, in fact she looked fine. "Internal damage," he muttered. Internal bleeding was a very serious matter. Blood flow on the inside and in those medieval days, there really wasn't much you could do about it except to let the body heal on its own. Not many survived.

"Nothing you can do about it. I'll just have to take it in stride. Do not worry, sacred power will heal me in time. I'm quite curious though, what did you use?" Laylah was quite enraptured by Jacob's ingenuity. To concoct something that actually slipped through her defenses, well, this boy was something after all. Giving praises was something Laylah rarely did. Her approval was usually expressed in condescension and silence. There was just no way for the other party to know that she was interested. Well, this demon boy certainly got her attention now. He was definitely a force to be reckoned with.

"Ground up castor seeds."

"Ah, ricin. Dosage?"

"More than enough. You said something about your angelic being rejecting mortal poison. I was wondering about that, and I did give it my blessing, or cursing in a way."

Laylah smiled. "There. That is proof."

"Of what?" Frankly, he looked quite confused. "If you think a few words could've killed you, well…pretty far-fetched."

She shook her head. "You don't get it do you? Words are powerful. They don't mean anything in the context of a book, but when it's said through the lips of one with intent, it becomes akin to magic. You are able to do magic. Most impressive Jacob. Bypassing my wards too. That must be some sinister intent you got there." _I wonder, if he is capable of evil, can he be capable of good?_

Jacob was only further estranged by her reaction. "You're praising me for almost killing you. Crazy woman," he muttered.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing, nothing."

"Good. Now help me get up. I hope you've made breakfast exactly how I like it, nice and vegetarian."

"Ahh, I haven't…"

"Then go. A patient can't recover while they're hungry. I'm absolutely famished. Prepare 4 servings for me and 1 for you."

A half hour later, it was decided that Laylah was to have breakfast in bed. "Woah, woah kiddo, not before I brush my teeth and use the restroom first. What are you staring at? Get out, get out!"

He was ushered out of her room and waited outside her door, clutching a tray of two bowls of oatmeal along with a plate of freshly sliced, exotic fruit. There were so many ripe ones in the fruit basket that it was hard for him to choose, so he picked the ones that he never saw before.

"Dragon fruit," she pointed. "Kumquat, then Kiwi. You brought a knife?" He proffered her a small kitchen knife which she used with deft hands to split the dragon fruit into eighths. "Here."

He took a slice from her and bit into the milky white flesh spotted with black seeds. Cool and sweet. "Nice." The pink skin was what he was really interested in. "So dragons are pink?"

"They can be in whatever color you want them to be. We call it that because of the shape also, see those leaves growing out like scales? That's why."

"For the kumquat, just roll them in your hands to get them clean. Then you just pop them into your mouth. Eat the skin too, you'll see why."

He did as she suggested and heard a pfft from Laylah's direction at his expression upon biting down. It was scrunched up into a grimace as if he tasted something strangely unpleasant yet tasty at the same time. "It's so sour it hurts."

"Keep chewing on it," she laughed. "It's a pretty extreme citrus, but the skin's sweetness gives a counterbalance to the acidity of it."

"Hmm, you're right. Pop me another one." He was more ready on the second try, but it didn't completely erase his facial reaction.

Laylah went back beneath her bedcovers, claiming that she was shivering from the cool morning air. "Last one's the kiwi. It looks quite strange, almost like a certain male body part."

"That's not funny at all." He gave her a stern face that just said _nope, nuh uh._

She gestured wildly at the ovalish piece of fruit in her hand. "You gotta admit it looks like something."

"I don't think so."

"Really? Are you sure you don't see anything?"

This was about when he broke his cool and burst out laughing. Laylah with her wild imaginations joined in too. They couldn't control themselves for a whole minute, still giving snickers even after that time was over.

She sliced this fruit with her knife and if one looked closely enough at the knife, one could see the trademark brand of _Kiwi_ along with a small, chick like bird on it.

Jacob took a piece and bit into the soft, green flesh. Like the dragon fruit, it also had black seeds, and like the kumquat, it was also sour in a sense, but not to the extreme. It was sweet too.

"So how'd you like 'em?"

"Well, they were my first time, and they taste great. Would definitely want more."

"Well, we're supposed to eat fruit as an after serving when we've completed out main course. That oatmeal is starting to look mighty unappetizing right now."

Jacob tried his best. In the instructions, it said that he should boil either water or milk and mix the oats in. He was surprised to find a jug of milk in the ice patch, which was kept cool in the cellars downstairs. He didn't know whether Laylah's vegetarianism was strict enough to include animal products, after all, they weren't part of the animal themselves. To be on the safe side, he made hers out of water and made his out of milk. He grabbed the salt shaker and dashed it over both their bowls. There was still plenty of boiled water and milk left to serve more bowls of oatmeal if they were feeling up to it.

He went to the tray and brought over her bowl and a spoon to her bedside. "Thank you. I'm fine," she said as she took the silver spoon from him. "I can feed myself. Take the time to enjoy your own bowl. We'll see the handiwork of your culinary skills for ourselves."

He settled down at the foot of her bed upon the wooden floorboards. It was hard, yet comfortable enough in the right sitting position. "Would you have preferred water or milk in your oatmeal?"

"Milk." She took the first few spoonfuls ravenously.

"How is it though?"

"It's edible. I have half a mind of keeping you in the kitchen."

Jacob got the wrong vibe from this. "Is it that bad?"

She chewed thoughtfully for a second and swallowed before answering. "It's alright for me. It depends on your own personal preference and taste. I'll eat anything, mind you if it keeps me alive. You haven't even tasted you own cooking. Take a bite."

He looked unconvincingly at the light brown mush he had created. _Here goes._ The first few bites were okay, then they started getting slower and slower till his reluctance to go on showed. "I'm sorry, I just can't. Even with the salt, it's technically flavorless and the warmth of it just makes me want to hurl."

"Hence why the fruit was needed. We know where that went," she pointed at her stomach. "Well, no use bemoaning about it now. We have to finish this. Wasting food isn't something that we should make a habit of."

One thing you need to know about Laylah is that she can eat fast. She commanded for another refill in just under three minutes, and finished the next bowl in the same amount of time and wanting more afterwards. "I'm starving, what do you expect, I almost got killed. My body needs sustenance in order to recover." At dinners, she had cultured restraint. She took her time to mull over thoughts and make conversation while eating. She can go either ways, but Jacob was more of a slow eater. His mother would always praise him for it while the other village boys would devour their meals in a matter of seconds. Rushing only made one sloppy in eating and nothing good ever came from rushing. Indigestion was one thing.

After Laylah took down the last of the 4 bowls she ordered and Jacob barely finished the last one, she sighed and stretched out her arms. "Well, I appreciate you making the breakfast this time, Jacob. But we'll keep it to just me in the kitchen from now on." _I knew it, she thinks my cooking__'__s terrible!_

He whisked the dishes away on the same silver tray. He brought them the sink for washing and lugged back water from the backyard well. _Amazing_, he thought. _There__'__s water flowing through bedrock. The natural phenomena of this place are beyond natural. It has to be magic._

After washing, he dried his hands on the towel and placed the dishes out to dry on the rack and covered them with a tablecloth. It wasn't expected for flies to live in a desert, much less so high up in altitude upon this isolated plateau, but he guessed it was also to cover the dirt. Then again, that represented the same issue, or lack of it. Dust didn't blow this high up. _It was a good habit that he picked up from his place._

He went back into Laylah's room to check on her recovery status. "Feeling better now."

"Much so. Jacob, mind getting me one of those books from my bookshelf?"

"Which one?" There were so many and the shelves themselves were massive.

"Uhh, the large black leather backed one over there, just a liiitle bit to the right. Yeah, that one. And get me an atlas." At his confused stare, she sighed and elaborated, "A book of maps. Just get me a map of Ente Isla. It's time for you to continue your tutelage under me as my disciple."

"Hey! I thought we were equals, not master and slave."

"No one here is a slave and I am most certainly your master. As long as you live under this roof, you obey the lady of the house. Considering that I'm the only female around here..."

"Like you even qualify to be a lady," he muttered.

She chucked the leather backed boot at his head and it smacked him. "Sorry, sorry."

"Yeah, I lied to you so you could quit your yapping, but a bond as sacred as that of master and disciple cannot be easily broken with threats. Only through death or relinquishment may free you from me. Get used to it. Are you really going to go against my wishes while I'm here, unarmed, weakened and in my bed?"

"No ma'am." He backed off, good.

"Good. Cause now you know who dictates policy around here. I said it once and I'll say it again, this is a Laylah-ship. You have no right to speak out against me or otherwise. Censorship is a must, forego your rights to free speech and voting-"She stopped at the clueless look on his face. "Oh boy, we have lots to teach if you don't know this."

"With all due respect, ma'am, you still haven't explained to me how you survived."

"Ah, yes. Your little poison would have no effect on me if it wasn't cursed with demonic magic. Potent demonic magic, mind you. I didn't know you had it in you, or that you wanted to kill me that badly. It bypassed my heavenly wards and it was only thanks to my angelic nature through nightfall that I was able to recover. I survived, although it crippled me. Don't let that thought mistake you into trying another attempt on my life. I would hate to flay your sorry hide and cast it down these wuthering heights. Are we clear?"

He nodded. That was all she needed. A willing consenter. The rebellious teenage stage of development was the most trying, even after the crying toddler who refused to be appeased by anything conceivable.

"Now, let's begin on your education. Pull up a chair, boy. This is going to be a long story, and I do pray to the Lord that you enjoy learning or this relationship is going to be…bumpy. Pick up that leather backed book for me again."

He rushed over to where it fell on the floor and handed it back to her. "This book here is called the Bible, but we're going to refer to it as the human Holy Book. Say Jacob, have you ever heard of humanity?"

The demon child had pulled up a light wooden Windsor and sat eagerly with his hands on his lap. "I can't say I have. I come from a pretty isolated demon community that hardly received word of the outside world."

She gazed at him with her red eyes. Sometimes, one would wonder who was the most demonic of the pair, the actual demon or the white-haired angel.

"Well, let's see, how do I describe humans? They're fickle, ambitious traitors who are greedy and self-serving. They're also kind, caring, hospitable, God-loving and capable of remorse. They represent the best and worst of both our worlds Jacob. They are angels and demons combined into one. They're fragile creatures of course, capable of both good and evil. Their lifespans are frighteningly short, a blink of an eye compared to our time. Their emotions have a tendency to bubble over and erupt like a volcano. They can shine like the brightest supernova and flash out in the next instant. They also have this snazzy ability to reproduce very quickly and their lands have come to encompass the northern, southern, eastern, and western isles. The only island their presence isn't dominant in is Isla Centrum, but even now, they encroach in. Some water please?"

He rushed to fetch her a glass, and tried not to spill the drink when coming back, in fear of missing out on her lesson. She drank all of it greedily and set the cup down on her wooden nightstand.

"Anyways," she coughed, while wiping her mouth on her sleeve. "Here's the map. You can see and recognize all of Ente Isla's major landmasses, yes? Now, humans love God, don't get me wrong. They have the potential to be great, upstanding citizens of the Lord if they are taught correctly. That is the job of the Holy Church, which is the human institution that spreads the word and teachings of God. Angels are welcome to join in, and some angels partake as patrons of the four individual churches on each island. We're practically treated like celebrities. Heh."

All this while, the demon child was constantly enraptured by the soft, angelic voice of his teacher. She seemed to get lost in a world of her own, one in which questions from the pupil were not expected or appreciated, but all will be learned in time through her lengthy and detailed explanations.

The concept of this race of beings that were a blend of angels and demons. _Were they the offspring of angels and demons? They certainly seemed so, according to Laylah__'__s explanations. They would willingly kill one of their own just for their own benefit, much like Jacob__'__s experience with the raiding tribe upon his village. They were also capable of love and care, and how the times at home spent with a family were the best times of all. Either way, I__'__m certainly interested._

This sort of reasoning and explanation would lead to Jacob's inevitable decision to remove the mercurial factor that humanity represented in his new world order that was to benefit all of demon kind.


	6. Chapter 5: Swords

From Nobody to Nightmare Ch.5 Swords

Artwork Insert

On the matter of swords.

"Skirt of Swords" by Sarah Shields

To the fingers that squeezed my throat  
_Swing_  
To the eyes that tore open my cotton shell  
_Stick_  
To the comments that bruised my confidence  
_Sling_  
To the absence at my self-sickened bedside  
_Sink_  
To the smile that slipped through me to her  
_Sing_  
To my heart in your chest  
_Sever_  
Come closer, dearest of undears  
_Sweep_  
I will flare and twirl and  
_Spin_  
While you are  
_Sliced_  
Into the same number of pieces as I am.

* * *

She was a lithe angelic figure upon the rocky crags, her slim body turned sideways in the position that all fencers take in order to limit the target area of their bodies. Indeed, it was a position she tried very hard to instill in Jacob. He was being quite adamant at the moment.

"Your body is the instrument that will carry your sword. Protect it well." And then she twisted his body sideways to mirror hers. "A swordsman must be light and swift in order to successfully dodge and strike at his enemies. Keep on the balls of your feet." She rapped him with the flat side of her thin sword. Jacob winced. She might as well have stabbed him for all the pain she caused.

Jacob gave a sigh before he took up the position she suggested. He held his sword with one hand to cover his side that was facing her. This was something he found to his extreme distaste, for the sword was unbearably heavy and the only viable way for him to fight was to use two hands to wield the blade. He also had to position himself by directly facing her instead of twisting into a side position. "This is not gonna do. Weight," he explained to her inquisitive features.

"Very well," she shrugged. "Whatever it is you feel comfortable doing. It's your individual fighting style, though why you would choose a weapon greater than even ¾ of your height is a mystery to me. However, neglect my advice and we shall see what comes of it."

Indeed, it was his choice to go with the huge broadsword. The day after Jacob had spent the second night at Laylah's sick bedside, he was awfully surprised to see that she was already out and bumbling about. Breakfast was served and immediately afterwards, she suggested on sparring practice.

"Oooh, before I forget, we need to dull our swords. Fighting with a sharpened blade just might shorten our immortal lifespans. Now, I'll guide you through this. Clear your mind, breath, and focus your desires into dulling the blade. Focus, like it's the only thing you want right now out of all the things in the world."

"I-I don't know. I'm trying, but nothing's happening. I could do it spontaneously before, but in a controlled environment, it just doesn't come to me."

"Well that's all a matter of perspective. You're just not thinking hard enough." She rapped his head hard with the flat side of her sword. "Oh, whoops. Didn't dull that, heh heh. Sorry about that."

"You could've taken my head off with how you hit."

She shrugged the comment aside, not feeling very apologetic. "Hey, I haven't killed you yet, so stop your whining. Anyways, follow me in how you do this. With the thought of dulling the blade in mind, run your index finger along the edge of your sword." She moved her hand as she spoke, and a purple spark flitted from one end of the sword to the other, following her trailblazing digits. "Now you try."

"Alright." He focused really, really hard. Focused so much that he was furrowing his forehead and clenched his teeth. He ran his fingers gently over the broadsword's edge, but nothing happened. "I can't do it. Can't you at least do it for me?"

"Well, I guess we're not going to spar. If you can't dull your blade on your own, then what's the use in teaching you how to swing steel? Is your opponent going to do it for you? Well that's a very friendly opponent you got there. It all comes down to your thinking. You don't think that using magic is possible at all. You've never been surrounded by its presence your whole life, that's why you're having doubts. Talented magicians everywhere have the stigma that if they can't be competitive enough in their trade, they're going to fall out of their trade and lose their livelihoods. You can just go ahead and try to do something different, but the benefits of that wouldn't be as great as capitalizing on this gift that they were born with. Are you going to be satisfied with less? If you truly want to be a demon lord, you will learn how to do this. If you truly wanted to kill me, you would've already succeeded."

"Are you calling me a coward?" he growled through gritted teeth.

"You might as well be one if you can't succeed."

Rage influenced his decisions now. He stabbed his broadsword deep into the sand and into the bedrock as well, so that when he stepped back, it was standing on its own. "I'll try again." He spit in his hands and rubbed them together. Then he snapped his left fingers together and fluttered them across the edge of the blade, causing red sparks to alight from his fingertips and follow his hands as they rounded both sides and went into the ground to cover the tip.

"I did it!"

"Those hand tricks were entirely unnecessary. Poking at your masculinity was the thing that did the trick," she hissed under her breath. Laylah turned around, her white hair sheened in purple as they caught the sunlight. "I'm not trying to tell you how to be your own man. But you are the one who decided to be the next demon lord, a demon lord unlike any other. A demon lord who can preach kindness and compassion among a species with a history so embroidered in violence and bloodshed. Everyone's tired of that right now, but you can't unite all the demonic tribes through the words of a martyr. You need strength to back your claim." _For power is might and might is right._

She was right. He needed to get stronger, not just for his sake but for the sake of his goal. In a way, he could be playing to be the saviour of the world.

On the matter of character archetypes, it is my personal belief that those who have truly lost everything are the ones who devote themselves to altruism. The heroes fighting for the sake of the world that you learn about in fictional stories and anime are the farthest thing from the truth. We are all selfish creatures, and our first and foremost goal is to secure the safety of our inner circle, our closest friends and family. One who has nothing else to save will work to save the world. No wonder there are so many tragic heroes.

"Alright, let's begin." She tapped the rocky earthen ground in her backyard with the tip of her sword. "Come up here exactly to this center. Then we turn and walk 20 paces in the opposite direction. On my mark, we attack. The limits of the arena are the fenced area. The one who deals a halting fatal blow wins."

The area behind the cottage was quite spacious, a rectangular area measuring 50 feet by 30 feet. The ground was supposed to be rocky, what with the plateau formation, but it was laid over in sand. This made the surface quite sunken and uneven in places, but if you dug your feet in deep enough, you can reach the bedrock formation. He saw it as no advantage in a battle. Who had time to get comfortable in their footing when they had to move around as quickly as possible?

"Begin."

Her whisper was cast to the wind and his curved ears barely picked it up before she started moving. She covered the forty step difference between them in two mighty leaps, then her thin bladed sword was upon him. A rapier, she called it. Well it was certainly raping him. The angel of night cast down a rain of blows in broad daylight, and his broadsword was clumsily swatting them away. There was hardly grace in his movements, more like brutish deflection and desperation in not getting stabbed. Left jab, dodge. Horizontal slash, block with vertical. Then withdraw for a center point stab. Frankly, he didn't know how to counter this one so he tried to dodge and kicked up sand in her general direction to buy him some time to counterattack. There was a twisting of shadow and apparition and suddenly, she was on his other side with her sword raised upwards, a smile ghosting across her face.

"I don't really appreciate you using your light shifting tricks on me." He hefted up his broadsword and let the pommel rest on his shoulder.

"In battle, all means are necessary to secure victory. You think your opponent will play fair?"

A slender foot kicked up sand into his face, and he shifted to the right to avoid it. Damn, using his tricks against him. At such close range, temporary blindness was fatal with her quick sword. He froze immediately as he felt cold steel slightly prick against his collarbone.

"Dead," she proclaimed.

He sighed and got back up on his feet as she withdrew to a safe and comfortable distance. His arm muscles ached from the heavy burden of the broadsword.

"First thing you should learn is how to hold a sword. You need to know that the broadsword you're wielding is heavier than it looks. Its layers upon layers of steel folded and condensed upon one another. It also cost me quite a hefty sum so do take care of it."

"You could've told me that sooner before we rushed into sparring!"

"Meh," Laylah shrugged. "Experience teaches much more than instruction."

"And sometimes you instruct before you start giving experience."

"Aren't I instructing you right now? Enough talk. Again."

They launched themselves at each other. Two colossal titans of will pitted against one another. One young and brash, brimming with ambition. The other cool and timeless. This time, the angel let the demon come to her and she was quite amused at all the yelling he was doing while he was running to her.

"Intimidation is a good thing to use against your enemies. It's quite useless right now if I'm not going to even flinch." She flicked her blade upwards and held it steady against his heart. "Dead, your vitals were left wide open. Screaming your head off like a shounen character isn't going to accomplish anything. Think. Be wise, be **wicked**."

"Again!" he yelled. They walked the twenty opposite paces and went at each other. This time, Jacob was being a bit cleverer, angling his blade to his center so that he can easily shift to any side while he directly faced Laylah. Then he charged. Thirty paces, twenty paces, ten paces left. She just stood there with her rapier held upwards right in front of her face while she faced him sideways.

The angel then lunged at his advancing form in a flurry of jabs aimed at his center, trying to draw his heavier sword away. He parted them and aimed at striking her center. Of course, Jacob had the intention of halting before he struck anything. Even with a dulled blade, his broadsword and her rapier were dangerous. Then again, he knew the angel had the strength to block it, like she did every blow.

His vision blurred as her image shifted directly to his right. Apparition again? This woman was never going to stop with her cheap tricks. She waited patiently in her side form while he shifted and tried to regain his balance.

"Are you quite ready? Or do I need to take another minute."

Her jabs were quite literal, both physically and verbally. Just because she didn't believe in his masculinity in wielding huge swords doesn't mean she has to laugh at it. Oh, but she wasn't laughing. _I__'__ll show her alright._

Jacob lunged forward, every muscle in his body from his legs, to his core, to his arms moved in perfect sinewy resonance to deliver this mighty blow. It would be anticlimactic if she just moved away. However, she didn't seem to have the intention of moving. In fact, she was smiling in anticipation for this blow. It was a horizontal blow, aimed at taking out her neck. He braced himself to lessen the blow so that her thin arms wielding her thin sword can block the blow. If she couldn't, he was willing to withdraw it backwards just a bit so that it would rest comfortably against the side of her neck. Or it couldn't. _I__'__m going too fast_, his eyes widened in panic and he did everything he could to stop it.

Laylah brought her rapier around in a leftward arc to meet his rightwards swing. There was a terrific clang as both of their blades locked. Even with his reduced momentum, Jacob thought that he could win this engagement. Laylah can flit around but when facing an opponent head on, she had no advantage.

That was until she started pushing him back. This came as an immediate surprise to him. Even her leftwards momentum hadn't enough force to push back against his broadsword. It was then that he glanced at her biceps. Slim they were, but they gave a little twitch and he was thrown backwards. He managed to stabilize himself while sliding back with his sword dug into the ground and grating heavily on the red sandstone below. He looked upwards to check on the status of his opponent and she was directly on top of him.

"Dead." The cold ringing words were like the cold ringing steel of both their blades colliding, and his blade was the one being pushed backwards. Like his pride was pushed backwards against her might and will.

"Don't think that just because I am of the opposite sex, I am automatically relegated to playing the weaker role. Angels, whether they be male or female, fight superbly well against one another. I am a strong and independent woman, don't you forget that," she crowed from on top, then cracked a smile. "Need a hand?"

"Yeah, thanks," he huffed from the exertion. She hauled him up, body and all plus sword. "Will definitely make sure to remember that." _As if I could ever forget. But I guess she__'__s the true star of her own show. _"I have a feeling that you're doing all this to get back at me for before."

"Well, you wouldn't be wrong," Laylah smirked.

"Alright, wanna go again?" He was still breathing heavily and leaned on his tall sword for support. She wacked his head with the butt of her sword.

"Don't lean on that, you'll ruin it! (_Well, from her beatings, this thing is more ruined by her than me). _And frankly, looking at the state you're in, you can hardly last another round."

He took a bit of time to come up with a reply. "Not true. I'll show you right now."

"You're contradicting yourself."

"No, seriously. How am I going to get better at this if I don't keep practicing?"

Her red eyes flashed in annoyance. "You're going to get better. And this is exactly that, you getting better. **You**, need to rest. That's how you're going to improve. There's no use in continuing to practice if you can barely hold a sword. There's your homework, learn how to hold your sword. Take hours just holding it so your arms can build up the strength to support its weight." She waved him away and went to the shed.

She came out with two scabbards, one for her rapier, and one for Jacob's broadsword. "It seems awkward just calling your blade by its type. Rapier. Broadsword. It gets awkward sometimes. I mean," she struggled trying to find an explanation, "they're an extension of our arm, our body, our mind, our soul. Try naming yours. I know its awkward calling your right arm by a name, but that's just how it is. The famous warriors have a name for their blades, and if you're going to make a name for yourself, start with your sword."

"Alright," he said heftily. She handed him his scabbard and a cloth and he started to clean his broadsword. Staring deep into the reflective steel, he could just about make himself out, horns, ragged hair, and all. "Man, I don't really know about this."

"If you're going to be an instrument of good, but wielded by an even individual, you should be named evilly. Great Demonic Sword shall be thy name!" he proclaimed.

Her red eyes dulled into uncertainty. "Eh, from one point to another. One awkward noun to another. I was looking for a name, but…" she didn't press the issue further. The boy had quite made up his mind and was gushing over his steel about how good it did during the sparring practice.

"Oh, you are my hero! You protected me from the evil woman and her evil blade," he glanced tentatively in her direction, not at all worried by the daggers she was staring at him. "Umm, what's the name of your blade?"

"Mine?" she exhaled briefly before lifting her bright, naked sword up in the air. "I call her Heaven's Needle, for this is the Needle that will pierce the Heavens!"

"Pff, childish. Not taken seriously at all. What kind of person names their sword that?"

"Excuse me? What kind of person dubs their sword after a descriptive noun? No, multiple descriptive adjectives. Seriously, we need to start on your grammar lessons immediately. Anyways, I'm heading inside. Start by holding that sword for 5 minutes. Then try again and again and again until it hurts so much that your arms can't do anything."

"WHAT! That's totally not fair at all. What's wrong with you woman!"

"Nothing's wrong. Except you. You wanted to get stronger? This is how. You chose a larger sword than what I recommended and you weren't strong enough to wield it. Child's play. If you were facing a child, I'd bet they could beat you with a stick just by prancing around your immobile frame. You can hardly move. Tomorrow, you're progressing to 10 minutes, then add 5 minutes in subsequent days. Time yourself, mind you."

Hours later, the cool early morning had given way to a dry and sweltering desert afternoon. Laylah didn't do well with sun. Night was more her forte. Leaving Jacob out there was a good choice though, it serviced his endurance to the elements. Plus, his tan needed to be worked upon.

That night, while sitting at the dinner table, Jacob was dead tired. His arms were sore and exhausted. He actually did the exercise Laylah assigned him. When others who would take the words of an adult with a grain of salt. It's like when a P.E. teacher lets you out for free time and expects you to do some physical activity. What do most kids do? They find shade and sit around for the rest of class. It is rare to see the few physical fanatics who would go to their extreme limits all in the name of fitness. And because their teacher told them to. That's exactly what Jacob is. He wants to get stronger, and he would do anything Laylah says, if they be within the bounds of reason.

Tonight's servings were cashew noodles with broccoli and tofu along with a black bean salad. High in protein, which was a necessary macromolecule to feed and rebuild his torn down muscle fibers. Again, the question Jacob posed to Laylah was where she got the fresh ingredients. She would always smile that conspirator's smile, the one you give when someone guesses you right, but you just smile and not admit anything. Only that upward curve of your mouth was proof of any indication.

"Maybe another time. You need to acquaint yourselves with the basics of magic before you can understand what I will tell you." She took a sip from her glass of wine.

"You know, wine is a traditional healing drink that's supposedly good for your health. At least, that's what the human Holy Book says. The two essential vitalities that make up the Christ figure are bread and of course, wine."

"But if the human Holy Book speaks of this Jesus, doesn't he exist in your Heavenly world? He does and doesn't. You've heard of the theory of the Trinity? No? Well, it says that God exists in three consubstantial forms: the Father, the Son, which is Jesus, and the Holy Spirit. God is all of these things, so why refer to the God as his own Son when he is also the Holy Spirit and the Father? God is one in all three."

"Speaking of human ideologies, Jacob, how would you like to visit the human realm?"

"W-what? You mean, go outside your cottage and actually go visit lands apart from Isla Centrum?"

"All the islands. You will see lands of sand, other than the one you're living in right now, lands of ice, lands of grassland and meadows and forests and jungles. You will see them all, for I shall be the one to take you."

"But you aren't well enough to travel. The poison took most of your angelic power away just to hold back its effects-"

"I know that this trip is possibly dangerous to my health, and my combat abilities will be severely limited, but I think it's for a good reason. I'm not always around or always able to protect you. You have got to learn how to do all that on your own," she stressed, then sighed. "Seems scary doesn't it?"

Jacob nods.

"Well, it is. That's how I learned to grow up. Being immortal doesn't grant you the excuse of being a child forever. It's crucial to grow up as fast as possible so you can do the greatest amount of good you can in the world. You can do this, Jacob. Come with me."

"You might die."

"Oh, I'll be fine. I'm immortal, remember?"

"Not unless you are claimed by blade, poison, or sickness, and I'll do well to remind you that one of those three nearly succeeded."

"Traveling shouldn't be too detrimental unless I take it slow, plus, we get all that time to do some great sightseeing. I mean, you are going to absolutely love the views around the world. The different people, the flora, the fauna, oh everything's magnificent. Besides, in one of these exotic lands in the southern Isles, there's this tribe of mystical healers who are rumored to cure any illness. If not, we can just visit the Heavenly realm and complete my healing over there. Plus, I get to introduce you to my extensive family! All the angels can't wait to see what an anomaly you are and how you're going to do so much good by changing the world."

Underneath a silver chandelier lit by candlelight, in a cottage bathed by moonlight, an angel painted beautiful pictures about the world to an enraptured demon boy.


	7. Chapter 6: Aquila

From Nobody to Nightmare Chapter 6: Aquila

On the matter of Aquila (project) by Mark Zuckerberg

"Today, I'm excited to share that we've successfully completed out first test flight of these aircraft in the U.K. Aircraft like these will help connect the whole world, because they can affordably serve the 10 percent of the world's population that live in remote communities without existing internet infrastructure."

* * *

Steaming hot showers were the way to end the day. Especially after you have toiled in the backyard waving a thick, not to mention heavy, piece of steel around for hours. His grey tunic stuck to him from the sweaty exertions as if it was part of his own skin. Back in the good old days, you would not have the luxury of hot water running through metal pipes. The best way to relax was to take a bath or a shower in the waterfall. One of them was entirely possible for that matter; it just depended on how much work you were willing to put in drawing up water from the well. There was also the problem of heating that water, where were you going to get the fuel? You were living in a practical desert and I am sure there are pieces of coal lying on the valley floor 100-feet down. Yes, even getting down there was a problem for someone who did not know how to fly.

Jacob was relegated to the sidelines in the meaning of life's greatest pleasures-the steaming hot bath. He splashed cold water on his head with a pail, and then proceeded to scrub vigorously with a washcloth until his skin was a fine shade of red. Sure, it hurts, but it gave him peace of mind at night that he was entirely clean. Another one of the benefits of taking these water-down cold showers was that you were averse to using it as much as possible. There was no urgency in excessively using such substances to freeze off your male extremities. Compared to a hot shower, you saved a lot more water. He only used two bucketful of water and was in and out of there in under five minutes.

The sunset desert air was just starting to cool, but it was still awfully warm and hot. Despite that and the towel wrapped around his waist, Jacob's teeth was chattering and he hurriedly shivered along towards his bedroom. From the bathhouse outside, he had to traverse through the house and past the living room where Laylah laid on a couch reading one of her many tomes. It was at this point that he accelerated his speed walking to a run-walking pace.

"Hold it right there, Jacob." Not fast enough it seemed.

Laylah's tiny, white feet crossed one over another and lay on the armchair. Her eyes lifted from the yellowing pages to give him a critical up-and-down view.

"Turn around." She was interested in his back. Was there something wrong, something strange about it? He could only wonder. He immediately tensed his frame, already rigid in worry that he was in some kind of trouble, when her cool fingers touched his back. She gently traced his spinal from the knob at the neck and stopped a few inches down, directly behind his central heart. Then she moved that finger in an upward spiral until she reached his right shoulder blade.

"There."

She went backwards to the spine and traced her symmetrical path, this time in the leftwards direction.

"And there again."

You know that feeling when someone starts touching you and you are half-naked. Jacob's cheeks flushed. His body was overheating and it was not because of the warm desert air. He was overly conscious of the towel knot at his waist that was slowly unraveling. Jacob quickly grabbed at it in a wild effort to rescue his sanctity.

Laylah retraced her paths back and forth repeatedly. "Now this is interesting. Jacob, did you know that you have wings?"

"What?" This made him forget about his less than presentable state. "Wings? No, no, no. That is not possible. Aren't wings an inherent trait? None of my parents have wings."

She quickly steered him back into the living room and made him stand with his back facing the mirror. "Really? Take a look at this." Her fingers jabbed at the points that she had traced in emphasis.

"And, what am I supposed to see?"

Her eyes widened in disbelief. "Can't you see it? It is as plain as day. Look at those dark marks on your skin from…your rhomboids to your trapezius." She snatched the tome from where it was innocently lying on the ground and quickly abused its pages to find that specific piece of information.

"Eh? I don't know a lot about my back anatomy." Jacob craned his head backwards to face the mirror and took in the view. He generally had unblemished skin, with a few scars from his past beatings. Then he looked at the area that she was gesturing. Jacob could not see anything wrong except for his paleness. The parts of his not covered by his clothing were the only ones given a tan. "What am I supposed to see again?"

There was that calculating gleam in her eyes. You know the one where the cogs of your brain are working and your eyes dash back and forth from the subject that you are desperately trying to solve until finally, it clicked. "I can see things differently than how you can see things."

Jacob soured at the obvious statement. "Well you're obviously blind if you want to say that I'm blind."

"No, no, no. It makes sense. This is magical. I can see it because I have gotten familiar with the presence of magic. My eyes can detect when a magical process is occurring. I-it's hard to describe. You can say that its multicolored vapor and you can determine the typing based on its thickness, coloring and vibrancy. Yours right now is a dark blue and it's throbbing like mad." She twirled around him in that yellow summer dress. Inspecting him as if he were a strange new specimen. "Don't worry; you'll be able to spot these things out in time."

"Now you're right, Jacob. Wings do not just appear on you out of the blue. You can identify flying demons based on their wings, which come with them at birth or during early development. You are 14 summers old, Jacob and this is appearing just now. Are you sure none of your parents had wings?" She plopped herself down on a wooden chair and gestured for him to take the couch. Laylah also whipped out a quill and notepad out of thin air-magic. She crossed her legs and gazed at him intensely, as if she was a Freudian psychologist and he was her patient receiving therapy.

He took the plush seat, but was ever mindful about his unraveling state. _Say something Jacob; say you need to get dressed before something really happens!_ Now he just needed to get out of here before Laylah's twenty-minute grace period of mind reading kicked in. Admittedly, though, he was curious. Wings? With wings, he could finally fly out of this restrictive cottage. "None. My mother is from the savannahs and there is no use for wings there when there is hardly an air current blowing by. As for my father…I don't know actually."

"Really? Any extensive family?" Jacob shook his head. "Then it must be your father. Have you ever noticed something strange on his shoulders?"

Have you ever thought about someone you know really well about his or her traits and features? Me neither. They were always there; their constant presence made questioning thoughts like these invalid. It's like calling your mother 'Mom' and not knowing her real name. You could always consult them about themselves, but you never really bothered to. That is until you find that you have no more time with them. Laylah's point put things into perspective and Jacob started to regret about not trying harder to know who his parents really were. "You know, now that I think about it, I never really got a good look at my father's backside. He always covered himself with clothing. He bathed privately and even when it was hot, he would not take off his shirt. There was this one time that I barged in on him changing, and I saw his back. There were scars right in the places that you pointed out, and a flap of burnt membrane that looked like it was clipped off then cauterized to try and erase all existence of it."

Laylah smiled in sympathy. "That must be a really painful thing for your father to go through."

Jacob stared back. "There is no need to feel sorry for him. If he did not have the decency to confide in his own son about his past and his conditions, then he deserves to be forgotten. As of this day, I have no father but the Lord."

"That doesn't change the fact that he was your father. The Lord considers everything in creation his children, even demons who are birthed from the first wife of Adam, Lilith. Some are good and some are unruly. The Lord knows all and forgives all and you should follow his example in granting forgiveness to your father so that he may rest in peace. Whatever wrong your father has done you is not too great. We can talk about it if it bothers you so."

"I'd rather not," he growled. "Now Laylah, the wings."

Laylah gave a sigh. _This boy was proving harder to work with._ "Very well, if you insist, I'll drop the matter. These wings are not physically apparent now, but they are currently growing inside you. I couldn't sense that they were there when I rescued you from the desert, so this must be a recent development."

"Can you think of a reason why? Why should this be happening now? I have read that physical traits are passed down. Even if it was chopped off him, he originally had wings. It would only be natural that I have them too at birth. Why now so far into my development?"

Laylah chewed her lip in deep thought. "Umm…what can I say? Magic? But I am impressed, you've been reading up on your Darwin."

Jacob gave a sigh of exasperation. "Is that your way of saying you don't know something that you can't explain?"

It was like a question that was phrased in the obvious, but did not make sense to the plain. "Of course. What other explanation is satisfactory? Angelic magic relies on the temperament of the Lord and the Heavens as well as one's own strength. What other explanation is needed other than that it can be accomplished?"

Sighs were like Jacob's signature response to Laylah's explanations now. There was nothing he could do or say to sway the woman's mind. The only way to communicate was to give off a passive-aggressive response. The sigh was precisely that. _I am annoyed and tired of your bullshit. Just have your way so that you can shut up now._

"What was that?"

He quickly stifled his open mouth. "Oh, nothing, nothing, just yawning. I was just thinking that it's not very scientific of you to be so trusting in an ideology that you know next to nothing about? Shouldn't you at least get to know what goes on in the process of conducting magic?"

Again, that look of 'why do you even bother asking.' "As I've told you before Jacob, angels get their power from God."

"So in summary, you get your powers from rainbows and kittens. What am I, a demon who wants to do good, supposed to feed on? Crying children and bloody organs?"

"What you purport is interesting in theory. Does the intention of good make you tap power from sources different from those you would traditionally draw upon? I would not know for sure." Jacob couldn't resist the 'I told you so' and got a smack in the head for it.

"You've never actually seen me conduct a proper ritual have you? Normally, you would need rituals to perform any form of magic, but the need for that goes away as your mastery of the art progresses. I'm going to do a force growth so the parts of your body that haven't developed yet, take your wings for example, will sprout into maturity."

"Your original nature however will prevent you from drawing from another source. Anyways, let us begin." Laylah knelt down behind him, tucking her feet underneath her thighs in seiza style.

Like a mother to a child, she carefully directed him into the lotus position upon the thick Ottoman rug. "Take deep breaths. You must have balance within yourself if the ritual is to succeed in spreading the magical energy throughout your body." She waited patiently until silence stretched across the room. The windows were open and let in the rapidly cooling evening air in. Land does not successfully retain heat, which makes the desert a place of extremes temperature wise. Record highs and record lows.

"מאי העצמות שלך לנבוט ואתה עלול לעמוד זקוף. ייתכן שהכנפיים שלך התפשטו, כך שאתה יכול סוף סוף לקחת טיסה. יצור של חושך, ללכת לגבהים יותר!" Of course, she did not say any of this in the common tongue and he hadn't the slightest clue as to what it meant. There was a great whooshing of wind and the sun darkened. A great cloud of sand had blown up from the ground a hundred feet below and encircled the cottage like the metal rims of an armillary.

Jacob was frightened. The wooden cottage, which he had thought stable, now rocked and creaked terribly as if the great uproar of wind would blow it away. Over the tumultuous sound, he could barely hear Laylah shouting, even though she was sitting a mere two feet away. Was she telling him to calm down? How could he calm down? They were about to die here.

Then he remembered what she told him moments ago. He must remain calm and meditated if the magic was able to stream properly through his arteries and sink down into his capillaries. Every single bit must go to the right place. Otherwise, things could permanently backfire.

Aggh, this was impossible! He roared out his frustration although he knew not even Laylah could hear it. It was much too loud and the air pressure made his ears pop. Well, if you're dissatisfied with something, then change it. It was an obviously simple matter really.

"שתיקה_-Silence!"_ Jacob shouted. It was instantaneous relief. All sound in his world was cut off, as if someone flipped the switch to his hearing to the off position. He half expected everything in the immediate present to freeze as well, but not so. Laylah was still swaying and chanting in her half drunken state, the dusty cloud still revolved, and everything was shaking.

At least like this, he could close his eyes. The violent current whipped strands of his already messy dark hair into a more disheveled state. He didn't know what he was supposed to feel, but sitting still and breathing was not going to make him calm down. Jacob took to analyzing the room and the multitude of things that had fallen or broken.

His eyes glanced upon everything ranging from torn paper paintings flapping in the wind to tipped statues. It took him awhile before alighting upon a wooden board with alternating light and dark tiles set in an 8x8 frame. It was aligned with various pieces, set on opposite sides of the board with opposite colors. What was curious about this object was that none of the pieces had fallen over, despite the Category 3 hurricane level winds.

_A game? Perhaps the pieces are sustained by magic. That would certainly explain their orderly state._ Jacob could only wonder, but Laylah shook him out of his reverie.

He turned around to look at her. She had a worried look on her face and was mouthing words that he couldn't hear. _What happened? Did something go wrong?_ He tapped his ears to try to explain and felt something warm and sticky running on the side of his face. He looked at his hand and saw red. Blood.

"צוֹלֵל." Laylah returned his hearing to him. "Jacob, are you alright? Your ears are bleeding. Here, let me get a towel." He heard a faint snap before something wet was pressed to the side of his face. It was a washcloth.

"House, clean up." Everything that had broken or fallen over fixed themselves. Little fragments and particles flitted back into broken cracks. The maimed mirror with its film of silver returned to its perfect state of clarity. The shaky walls stabilized as hammer and nail banged on the exterior in an effort of repair.

"Well, did it work?"

"For someone who just had their eardrums popped, you're quite concerned over yourself, the wrong part of your body that you should be concerned about." She patted his back and it still felt the same like before. There was no new feeling. There were no new senses.

He reached around and felt it himself. Smooth, unbroken skin with the running rivulets of rib cages and spinal vertebrae. Nothing new.

"It failed," he sighed. Disappointment was the worst thing he could feel now, never mind the pain coming from his ears. They were a small tribute to what he could have accomplished with the ability of flight.

Laylah tapped the outer lobe of his ears and whispered, "Heal." The pain was replaced by an incessant itching, as if a bug had crawled into his ear canal. Soon, even that was replaced by the dull feeling of fineness. Fine? No, he was not fine. He didn't have wings and that was downright unsatisfying.

Laylah touched his back again and outlined the path from before. "Whoever said it failed?"

It was at this point that he collapsed on the floor in unbearable pain. He cried out, it was agony. Imagine something unnatural growing inside of you, clawing its way through your skin, trying to get out of your back. He felt something tear. Out of the corner of his vision, there was a flash of black. A wingtip.

Would your expression be that of horror and disgust? Well I will tell you that Jacob's was one of pleasure. With Laylah's helping hand, he got up and was able to inspect himself in the mirror. It was only a single wing on the right side of his body.

He could not wait for the other to get out of him so that he could finally fly. "How soon?"

"I expect it to be very soon. Tonight perhaps?" She stood up and dusted off her skirt out of habit, although she had cleaned every speck with her spell. "Ahh, that hurts," she stumbled and leaned on Jacob's shoulder for support. "Sitting like that can restrict your blood circulation if you're not used to it. I'm trying it out."

The explanation was lost on Jacob when he stood up too. As soon as he came out of the kneeling phase and started straightening his back, his poorly made knot finally unraveled and his towel slipped off his wiry frame. It wasn't even his fault though, he tied it tightly after showering. The series of unfortunate events did him in and now he stood there, bare and painfully revealing.

Laylah couldn't be more calm and mature in such a situation. She had seen him before in his bare state while he was incapacitated and healing. She had to wash him and change his bandages after all. "You might want to get some pants on yourself. By the way, I'm not impressed," her unbroken face morphed into a leer as she stared him down. "Go to your room and get dressed."

He gulped hurried away to his room as quickly as possible. If Jacob were any wiser, he would have run. When he got to his safe sanctuary, he quickly closed and locked the door to ensure his privacy and his life. Jacob was relieved. That stunt could have cost him his head.

That night, he took his meager vegetarian meal without complaint and ate alone in his room. Was it out of shame, maybe? Nowadays, he would tell you that it was because of eagerness in waiting for his second wing to come out. What he couldn't forget, was Laylah's expression when she looked down. Fear triumphed above all.

The morning found him with the blankets strewn and tangled around his body. His right arm cradled his head while his legs stuck out awkwardly from under the blankets. It would have been an embarrassing sight indeed, if anyone were to find him like that. Fortunately, the rays of dawn softly shone on his face from the windowsill and his eyes gently fluttered open at the light disturbance. Consciousness returned to him and he pulled down his upturned tunic that exposed his navel to the cold morning air. He proceeded to return to sleep, covering the soft white blanket over his face.

Alas, this was not to be, as at that moment, Laylah decided to barge into his room, and upon the sight of his still sleeping form, stripped the blanket that covered his thin frame. This resulted in a violent reaction from the half-asleep demon child that involved a lot of kicking and thrashing and flailing limbs in the air. "Jacob, it is already 6 in the morning, the sun rose at 5:45, why are you still sleeping?"

"Can't an injured individual find the comfort of sleep to take him away from the pain?" he was positively shivering in the cool morning air, with gooseflesh already popping up on his bare forearms.

"Yes, pain. Growing pains. If you're that stiff and tired, it gives you even more reason to get up and stretch in the morning and begin your morning regimen. Or do you not want to know the cause of your pains?"

"My wings? My wings!" he shouted.

True to Laylah's words, his second wing sprouted overnight, only a few hours later than its twin did. In full wingspan, they measured 8 feet, making them 4 feet each. It was definitely much smaller than Laylah's 12 feet of pearlescent and midnight. He was overjoyed to discover this when he woke up the next day, and best of all, it didn't cause him any pain than when he was waking. At least he didn't remember feeling it, or that explained his terrible dream of having his single wing ripped out. Perhaps it was a hydra, rip one out, two will take its place.

A closer look at the morning angel revealed her to already be dressed in a long-sleeved white shirt and a blue denim knee-length skirt. "Now get up!"

It would've taken a lot of grumbling and low curses to get Jacob to the restroom so he could wash up, but today, he was enthused by the prospect of new body parts. As he stared into the mirror, the heavy bags under his eyes didn't matter so much anymore. That added with the pair of horns curling up above his cascading dark locks, he looked like one very tired, but excited demon child.

He exited the restroom to find a neatly folded up pile of garments for the day on his bed, one typical white tunic and a black leather jerkin. A closer look at the tops revealed that slits had previously been made in the shoulders to properly accommodate his new wings.

How did Laylah know his wing size to make it fit, unless… He smirked to himself. Who was the pervert now, sneaking into people's bedrooms while they're sleeping just to get wing measurements.

Shedding his nightly garments, he quickly changed into his day clothes and dropped the dirty clothes in the woven hamper. In the kitchen, he joined Laylah who had finished squeezing fresh orange juice into two glasses. On the dinner table, he found two bowls of porridge along with two dishes consisting of three hard-boiled eggs each.

With an eyebrow quirked in curiosity, he asked, "I thought you couldn't bear to eat the flesh of animals, much less their unhatched young."

From what he could discern through texts about other angels, not all of them lived as a reclusive vegetarian like Laylah. Some partook in the flesh of other beings to strengthen themselves. All of that extra strength, as far as he was concerned, was used to kill and slaughter demons. A few days ago, he would have been bothered by the fact, but now, it only served to fuel his determination.

He will make a world where demons can live with each other peacefully. With that goal in mind, he also added the possibility of coexistence between demons and angels and those curious humans. If it was possible here with him and Laylah, then he could do it. One day. Someday.

Laylah peeked into the dining table to see if any more utensils were needed. The sight of her broke him out of his musings. "As the eggs are unfertilized, I'm technically not taking a life," she said as she wiped her hands on a clean towel.

"Consider this as a little leeway, just because I think you need it." Laylah plopped down in a seat next to him and scarfed down on her breakfast. She was referring to the eggs of course. She wouldn't let him get away with anything under her roof. Not even accidental nakedness.

Sighing, he slumped down in his seat and glared at his meager meal. Don't get him wrong, he was happy to eat something that wasn't leafed in green. Even with eggs, it was hard for him to eat a truly vegetarian diet. He simply didn't have enough energy to carry out most of his daily activities, and he hardly saw how Laylah could do that, adding to the fact that she left the house for 3 hours each day to go flying.

"Flying takes a lot of energy out of you, your wings have to support your entire body weight," she explained to him.

"Explains why yours is so big," he said wistfully.

"Don't fret because yours is small. You have a small enough body; your wings are the perfect size to carry you through the skies." She took a sip of the orange juice and gestured for him to try. "It's really good. Sweet, tangy, sour, and just enough energy for you to go flying."

He was taking a sip when she finished the last part of her sentence. "Flying," he spurted and coughed. "But I don't know how to fly!"

Laylah only leered at him with a smile. "Don't you think it's time to start learning?"

You can say the most innocent and kindly words in the world, but with a face like Laylah's, that took on an entirely different meaning. Jacob gulped at whatever possibility of torture that she had planned for him today. He knew he should not have been excited about the eggs. They were only temptations that would make him more eager to jump headfirst into whatever game of madness they will be playing.

"We're trying something new today." She stood up, finished with her meal. "And you'd best finish up your breakfast. It is best if we start now while it is still morning, the earlier the better. Take care of the dishes, will ya? I'm going to need to change."

Jacob whisked away the bowls and the plates away and carted them off towards the sink. He had learned a few tricks from Laylah about doing household chores through magic. Laylah usually did not actually use magic to clean the house, or any other domestic and meager chore. She did them by hand. "It defeats the purpose of actually doing the work and learning those valuable character skills if you could just make it happen with an incantation or a wave of your hand." Quite a hypocritical thing to say when compared to what she did yesterday.

As angels are immortal beings with endless time to do what they pleased, they valued skill and artisanship over rapid spell weaving and incantations. That is not to say that they would not use magic when the occasion called for it, but they would not use it needlessly. He supposed that he could understand that. He even respected it. It makes magic users feel what it is like to have to work as hard as non-magic people do when all the simplicity is gone.

Nevertheless, the plates soaped, rinsed, and dried themselves under his concentration. This is technically an occasion where the situation called for the use of magic. "She did say to hurry up," he muttered.

"Hurry up!" She was already back, this time in a fluttering windbreaker. The skirt was forgone for long dark-blue denim. "Ah, you've worn what I laid out for you. I didn't have any clothing in your size, or for males that is, that was flight material." She tugged on one of those curious sneakers with fluttering white feathered wings at the side.

"What, flight material?"

"Yes, flight material!" She tossed him a pair of those bewitched footwear and they smacked him right in the face as they came flapping. "Whoops, sorry…"

And there he was, decked out in a camouflage green and brown windbreaker which covered his oversized large tunic and the bare waistband of his khaki jeans. The soles of his winged sneakers scuffed over the sandy particles that barely smoothed the desert rock surface. A few inches away from where his feet were, the desert rock surface took a sharp diving dip, forming a rock cliff. He gulped as he stared down at the hundred-foot drop onto the hot and unforgiving desert floor. Laylah sat next to him, carelessly swinging her gazelle-like legs over the cliff side. She stared at him with those radiant pools of emerald, with her neck cocked to the side. "Well?"

"There is no way that I'm jumping off of that."

"Come on, it's not that hard. I flew you here."

"Yes, and I was screaming in fear the whole way," he sarcastically spat. "Really, I was unconscious and dying."

"But no one was watching," she smiled.

"That's not what I meant." Talking with this woman can be frustrating when it had to. It could be avoided, but she just makes it that much harder.

Her wings unfurled behind her, one black and one white, both forming a soft and radiating golden halo around her lithe figure. "Now, some pointers on flying. You can technically fly without wings with the sole assistance of magic, but seeing as how you're barely starting to learn, wings are the way to go."

"Seeing as I'm just a low-ranking goblin, I could have easily not gotten my wings."

"Well you can thank your father for being a highborn with good genes." She waved him off. "Now let the teacher finish talking before interjecting," Laylah said with a raised voice to accentuate her point.

"Sorry ma'am." He didn't look sorry at all.

"You're most likely not." Her voice had calmed back down to normal levels. "This conversation's not going to get you out of flying lessons though, so, oomph," she proceeded to shove Jacob right off the cliff ledge, "down you go." Caught by surprise, he hardly had any time to give a proper girlish scream.

The wind was rushing loudly past his ears, his windbreaker was breaking the wind…meaning it flapped about uselessly, doing nothing to slow his descent down to the, oh so merciless ground. They say that sandstone was as hard as rock, right? Gravity's pull was accelerating him down, and the ground definitely seemed to get closer. He shouted. Oh did he shout. Not in exhilaration. Not in joy. But in fear that he was going to die.

A figure blurred past him, dropping like a stone from the heavens towards the ground. Then, brilliant white and black wings snapped open, catching the sun's descending rays and shone them at his face. "No, not helping Laylah!"

"Just remember-!" she shouted loudly, though most of what she said was lost in the wind. He caught something along the lines of 'flap your wings you idiot.' _Oh right, I do have wings. What did that have to do with getting me out of this dilemma when I don't know how to use them? No, no, I'm taking too long to think. The ground, the ground!_

At that point, the traumatized boy had just closed his eyes, which a moment ago were wide with fear. He also promptly closed his mouth, which had been catching too much air screaming. And he wished. Boy, did he wish hard. He never wished as hard in life as he had at that moment. He wished about being able to fly, about not being splattered by the ground, and for getting Laylah back for this cruel trick. Then he opened his eyes, partly because it was taking too long for him to get turned into a messy pulp of flesh and broken bones, but because gravity no longer had that effect when falling which made it feel as if his stomach was rising up to his lungs.

He wasn't flying, he was primarily hovering through magic. Jacob could feel the great drain this had on his reserves of energy. Sleep and a hearty breakfast was what got him here in the first place.

The ground was dangerously close, and he was hovering a few inches above it, that if he wanted to, the tip of his sneakers would touch the ground. The stupid winged sneakers didn't do anything to help him fly, he gritted his teeth and glared at Laylah. She smiled nervously and slowly edged away from him.

Jacob gave a devious smile. _Oh, you're not getting away that easily." _She dashed away upon wings of white and black, and he chased after her with his new leathery, bat wings and a cloak of green streaming behind him. His newly discovered, but shaky, skill of flight was put to the test. He flapped his wings at different tempos; everything from fast, medium, and slow to determine which one would generate enough lift for his body type. In the end, he settled for a semi-fast flapping rate due to his short wingspan.

With his new adjustment, he dashed after Laylah in a blur of green and black. "Tag, you're it!"

Once upon a desert sky, an angel and a demon flew together toward the sun, echoing peals of laughter in their wake.

* * *

Note: Use Hebrew for magical text translations.


	8. Chapter 7: Morgenstern

From Nobody to Nightmare: Morning Star

On the matter of Lucifer.

Artwork Insert | Isaiah 14:12-15

"How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning! How art thou cut down to the ground, which didst weaken the nations! For thou hast said in thine heart, I will ascend into heaven, I will exalt my throne above the stars of God: I will sit also upon the mount of the congregation, in the sides of the north: I will ascend above the heights of the clouds; I will be like the most High. Yet thou shalt be brought down to hell, to the sides of the pit."

* * *

White. Black. Whatever was the difference? One radiated all colors and one absorbed all colors. Nevertheless, try to imagine the state of nothingness. Those two colors may help, be that a horizon of endless light or a room of darkness. Your preference. That is the state of utter nothingness, the lack of existence before there was a beginning.

That was Chaos.

Who would know the state of nothingness before one came into being? You certainly had no recollection, much less conscious, nor feeling. Was it white (and gold) or black (and blue) that you saw? Was it the dark room or the bright outdoors? There was no sun, there was no moon, there was no time. And there were no other constants in that world, except you. It was just you, alone, but you do not fear it. Existence in that plane was just a fact, you think, therefore you are. Now, were you sitting, or were you waiting? Waiting for what?

Suddenly, there was a breeze in the wind and this ruffles you, it startles you. You have never seen a phenomenon like this before. Then there came the loud rumbling of thunder. There was no doubt; this is what you have been waiting for. A loud cataclysmic clap split your reality of black and white. A single shout. "Awake!"

You gasped and opened your eyes for the first time, drinking in the utter whiteness of the room. You lay on the cold, hard marble floor with cracks radiating out from where you lay. Around you lay a drawn circle fitted with a five-pointed star in the middle. There was something in the center of that star, a word etched deep into the rock. It was gibberish to you for you could not read.

There was a figure in the room, someone…someone! In all of your existence, there has only been you, yet here stood another person. His presence was radiant and his form uttered a soft and restrained glow, as if the being could glow much brighter. Your eyes squinted to adjust to his brilliance, and then cleared. The eyes of lesser mortals would have melted and turned to ash at his magnificence. There was no doubt; no one else but he could have roused you from your endless slumber.

"Your name," he said, "shall be Lucifer." He pointed a commanding finger and you flinched from it, only to follow where he pointed. The circle. The single piece of writing. "That is how you spell it, Lucifer."

His voice was stern, yet gentle. His figure was powerful, yet fatherly. He offers you his hand, as if you were a fragile peace of porcelain that would break without care. You know who he is.

"Lucifer," you said perfectly. "I am Lucifer. You are my father. God."

"Yes," he smiled. "Now Morning Star, I have someone for you to meet. Michael, come over here please."

Out of the corner of your eye, you could make out a figure who hid in the shadows. His dark silhouette gave him away in the bright room. When he came out, he too was radiating like God, but several shades dimmer. He flashed a smile, the most beautiful smile and he walked over to you and God with graceful steps.

"Father," he said respectfully. "And brother. It is a pleasure to meet you." His eyes were a blue like that of the midday sky. You were nervous and shy, but gave a hesitant smile.

"Yes, it is a pleasure to meet you as well."

God gazed at the both of you fondly. "You two are my first angels, my very first creations. Michael, please show Lucifer around, he must be disoriented."

Michael gladly takes you by the hand and you have no choice but to follow. You pass by white, spiraling pillars that towered higher than the clouds. The male angel led you through this maze, zigzagging on his way out. The both of you passed by a mirror hung up on the wall and you catch a glimpse of yourself. Amethyst orbs peeking out from beneath long dark locks.

The thicket of pillars gradually thinned out until you finally reached the end of the complex. It was a wonderful building, and the view over the precipice was stunning. It seemed like an endless drop down past the clouds that blanketed the bottom. Michael tapped your shoulder and gestured towards your wings.

"You're going to fly on those."

"Fly?" you say.

He winked at you then jumped off the last step of the porch, his silver hair streaming behind him. He fell, fell, and kept on falling. You were getting worried, he did not seem to stop and you jumped out after him. You were scared, this was your first time flying and you certainly did not know how to fly, but you did it for him. You were scared he was going to fall down, down, down below and splatter upon the unforgiving ground. The best way to learn how to fly was to first fall.

Your shoulder muscles gave a twitch before your brilliant white wings unfurled. You can see them catch the sunlight from the corner of your eyes. They too were beautiful, Michael was beautiful, God was beautiful, and this world was too beautiful. You give a shout of exhilaration flapped your newfound tools hard. Your descent slowed and you were suddenly upright. You gaze around, trying to find the falling Michael, and then a shadow fell over you.

"Right up here."

It was Michael. He towered above you in all his angelic glory. His golden wings flapped slowly besides, keeping him afloat in the air.

"Now, Morning Star, try to catch me." He flew off in a blur of wind and feathers, leaving you behind. Alone.

"No," you say. You do not want to be alone. You cannot be alone. You start to panic and your wings beat powerfully as you tried to catch up to Michael. "I don't want to be alone. I have been alone for too long."

You lost your brother in the cloud covers and turned around. The white puffy clouds dampened against your skin after you flew hard through them. "Michael?"

Your voice echoed around, then silence. No one was there to hear you. Tears welled up in your eye and you started to cry. Then suddenly, the cloud covers parted and you saw a glint of gold before a spiraling bullet of body and feathers crashed into you.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Why are you crying? Don't cry, okay? Please." He wrapped you in a warm and comforting hug.

Then you start to beat at his back in a mix of sadness and anger. "Don't. Ever. Do. That. To. Me. Again," you grunted out with every harsh blow. "Don't leave me." He took them all without a word like a dutiful brother.

"Hey, hey. All is well. I am here. If you're so scared about me leaving you, let's make a promise."

You raise your inquisitive head from his shoulder, it was damp with your tears.

"From this day forth, we shall have a pact. As the first two angels of God, we shall be inseparable. We solemnly swear to never part, to be by each other's side every step of the way as we carry out the biddings of our Father. As brothers, let us make this true."

You accept.

He smiled mischievously and dashed off again. You were greatly angered; _He would seriously do this after he made that promise?_ There was no choice but for you to dash off after him. His laughter echoed from across the clouds and you gave chase. Soon, this childish ordeal had you laughing too for the first time. You spurred on, spiraling through clouds and drifting under sunlight.

This is Genesis.

*Angels were perfect creatures made in the image of God without flaw. They were all supposed to see white in that world. Lucifer was the only one who saw black.

* * *

Laylah blinked her eyes open. It was daybreak and sunlight shone through the canopy of her bedroom. She merely crawled out of her bed, leaving her white woolen blanket trailing behind her. She did not yawn and she did not tire. Angels did not sleep. It was that they could not. Their bodies would lie in a semi-conscious state. They were aware of their surroundings but they were also in control of the workings of their inner minds. As they could never experience the stages of sleep, like REM, they could not dream.

This was something different from that. A shared vision in which she would be able to take on the point of view of the subject, feel in ever crystal clarity all of their sights and senses, feel their aching emotions as if they were your own. Laylah thought that it was one of the benefits of being part of a race of perfect creatures; you could share with each other your experiences on a completely different scale. With complete understanding and communication, there can be no false intentions between angels, there can be no lies.

It was one of the reasons why her brother Lucifer's rebellious plot was discovered. They had acted swiftly to crush him before his sickening influence could spread among the Heavenly Host. Her brother Michael was the one to deal the defeating blow and she was the one to deal out the sentence. She was the one to judge him, to condemn her own brother to an eternity Fallen for doing what he believed was right. She could not fault him, but such was the absoluteness of law and God that casted him from Heaven.

Lucifer knew that she above all of their judging siblings would understand his motives. He shared with her all his memories that explained it all, right before his banishment. For a hundred days and nights she sifted through them. At the end of it, she was left a crying form of wings and body. She would gaze down at her shaking hands, uncontrollable. Uncontrollable like the mandate that she gave to blacken Lucifer's wings, permanently branding him as an outcast and a traitor along with his fellow conspirators. No matter her opinion or sympathy, the dye was already cast. You cannot bring back the Fallen. You can only give them up for dead.

She shook away all of these terrible past thoughts of her exiled brother. Laylah had always wondered what it was like to dream. It was a blessing for those who could fall back into the depths of blissful sleep. To escape the real world even for a little while was something she envied. The reality of subjugating Lucifer to a life she couldn't even imagine was terrible. _Please make it stop, I don't want to think about this anymore._

She rose up from her cot and parted away the leather flaps of her tent to reach the true outside. Warming rays seeped into her alabaster skin. She blinked her eyes to adjust to the sun. No need to shade, no need to avert. She had already seen the greatest light in all of existence and the sun paled in comparison to him. A cold gust of wind passed by, causing her to shiver to the exposed elements. She was wearing her night shorts and a white tank top. She may be fiery in spirit, but she can't burn away the cold winter.

There was a clanging of pots and pans and the crack of a fire to the side of her tent. She walked over barefoot to investigate only to discover that it was Jacob. He was making breakfast.

"You know, you could just use magic to melt away the snow if you wanted hot water." Jacob sat huddled in furs near the fire. The pot boiling over the makeshift wooden spit was filled to the brim with packed snow. Logs, stacked situationally over each other, gave off the occasional crack and spur and when the wind really picked up, cast off a blaze of burning embers.

Jacob pulled back the earmuffs that barely hid his pointed ears, which did not give him much comfort in the frosty morning air. "I technically could, but it would cost me a lot more energy to do so. Building a fire does the same trick, but in a little more time. With that time, you have the luxury of sitting around it to keep warm. Besides, I need every bit of energy I can get. You are going to drill me right?" he gazed questionably while glancing up and down her slender form still in sleeping attire.

"Give me a moment," she said and headed back towards her tent. Jacob's tent was situated only a few feet away.

She parted back the flaps to the entrance of her tent and kneeled in. Inside, it didn't seem so crowded or muffled. These were magical tents that allowed for much more space than there actually were. Inside, it was similar to her room in that cottage plateau in the desert southwest, complete with heavy furniture, books, bed and all.

They had been traveling for quite some time now. North was their direction. After Jacob's wings had sprouted, she had asked him where he wanted to travel.

"You can go anywhere now with these," she gestured to the black leathery flaps on his back. "I did promise you that we can visit the human world."

"Yes, but not just that. Take me to your home up in Heaven."

She shook her head. "It's not so easy like that."

"Then I don't care. Wherever you go, I should go too."

"Alright." She chuckled at his persistence. "I'll think something out."

And here they were, trekking through the northern tundra of Isla Centrum. They were only a few hundred leagues from the Arctic Rim, more commonly referred to as the Sea of Ice. Jacob had come to the decision to travel North because he had never seen snow.

"I mean, my parents would talk about it, during their travels. Snow was a wondrous thing to them, and I would like to experience it for myself. The thing is, I heard it's cold and that's the reason why they chose to live in the middle of an eternally summer savannah. They chose to raise me in a place where I would never know cold. I'm old enough to decide for myself now how much cold I can withstand."

His point of view, his reasoning, everything about him was something she could like and appreciate. He reminded her of herself when she was created, knowing nothing about the world around her, yet still intent on knowing everything. He possessed a keen intelligence to him that was similar to a certain fallen angel she knew. Lucifer.

Angels were perfect spirits who served their creator, God. They were beautiful and free, only bound by the words of the Lord. He intends for them to be pure and uncorrupted by sin or temptation. They say that perfection was unattainable, that no one could be perfect. Well angels could very well darn be the closest thing to it.

It was because of that perfection that God sent his most precious creations out into the world to teach the lesser beasts in the way of God. Sometimes, this did not go too well. Difficulties from different species always arose. The distrust and xenophobia that comes when one receives foreigners is tantamount for a situation of tensions.

She would experience that on multiple occasions when it came to visiting native settlements. Most of the time, these villages will have a dominant, testosterone-charged chief who would challenge any foreigner who came into his herd. Any male that is. They would often mistake a female as obedient, as someone easily subjugated to their whims. Laylah was not like any of your typical kind of females. She fought back, beat down the patriarchy and instated a female-led governance to whichever village she happened to cross.

Those were the days when she was young and brash, when she believed that the world should be fair and equal like Heaven. But the rest of the world could not be that perfect. Demon tribes had their own methods of barbaric and bloody governance. They worshipped one god and that was Death. Then there were the fae, forever held up in their forests and taking no god. Science, reason and logic were their basis and they believed they could classify the world along those lines. They could not be the representative society of the angels and it was hard for her to accept that. That there was a world out there that she knew so much about, but could do nothing to change it.

Humans on the other hand were primitive when she found them. Stone men they were, as barbaric as demons were but more crafty. She saw their shift from stone to fire to steel. They were the race of men and they were more malleable than their blockhead appearances let on. It was they who accepted God's word and created a religious society that strived to encompass all the good of the world. Now, in their stone castles and iron armor, they were a far cry from the primitive stone men that she once knew.

Of course, the prime example of Laylah's tales of xenophobic resistance was Jacob. She rescued him from the desert only for him to wake and attack her. Jacob was also a symbol of acceptance. He lived with her for about a month, adapted to her way of life and learned much from her. It proved that the mission of spreading God's grace was working miracles and she wanted the other angels to see that. They had given up on their original mission when they found a formidable opposition among the demonic tribes in the form of their own Overlord, Satan.

Demons may be less developed in the sense when compared to angels, but they were significantly ahead of all the other races. With a vast population, a horrifying religion devoted specifically to Death, and a powerful leader, they had proven to all of Angel kind as a scourge upon the. The war of Eradication resulted in the deaths of millions, much of the casualties coming from the demon side. It was a terribly unpopular war, as it was the first time when all angels were forced to fight. They all knew how, but were simply unaccustomed to the prospect of taking another life. The horrors of war shattered many fine minds in Heaven.

All life originated from God, including that of demons. They were the children of Lilith, created by God to be the first wife to Adam. She was banished from Eden for refusing to become subservient to him. Laylah could sympathize with the woman for that. The world below Heaven was ruled by a cock. Even in the lush paradise of Eden, no such equality of sexes could be found.

Laylah was third born in the rank of Archangels. Her precedence as a high-ranking official garnered automatic respect from her fellow winged peers. Her voice and command echoed that of God and the Heavens. Up there, none would bite her. But down here, she was surrounded by incompetence and arrogance. Only her inhuman strength could overpower these lesser males and force them to look at her in a different light instead of being cast a few shades down below them. In the very least, she was their equal and every man in this world should look at women as their equals.

Jacob was a different matter. He is still young enough to be taught that lesson of respect. As he was about to teach him now. She leered at the thought as she donned a thick, padded fur coat that was still light enough to allow ease of movement. The covering had no wing slits for her feathers, and she folded them in upon herself. It was no matter, better to have no opening and prevent cold than to have an opening and freeze to death, but then again, she wasn't going to exactly freeze either. She kicked up Heaven's Needle from the ground with her toes and caught it midair.

_It is time._

"Jacob! At the ready." The tent curtains fled before her advancing frame, and revealed to her a world of ice and snow. Tundra. Good, they will fight here.

Laylah unsheathed Needle and its tip glimmered in the dim northern sun. She advanced slowly and surely around her tent, ever careful of what may lurk on the other side. One hand grasped the one-handed pommel while the other supported it into a forward lancing point. There was a slight and subtle crunch of snow from behind her and she whirled backwards at lightning speed, just in time to meet a glancing downward stroke from Jacob's broadsword, only the blow went through her needle like a mirage. A trick of the light, aided by the addled sunlight of the North.

_A trick, _she hissed.

It was then that her feet were kicked out from under her and she fell to the cold unforgiving ground on her back, but still kept a tight grip on her blade. She caught a glimpse of Jacob in his arctic clothing, hurling down his great iron sword upon her. She grabbed Needle and rapidly moved it up into a horizontal block. Clang!

Steel upon steel, mettle upon mettle. Her thin arms and injured state brutally held out against the physique of a younger boy and his massive iron sword. But that was all he is, a boy. There was no way she was going to let him beat her.

Laylah knew that she needed to move out from her disadvantaged position on the ground. She lashed out with her right foot and swept Jacob's feet out from under him with her brown, leather boots. He gave a grunt of surprise and shifted one of his hands to break his fall, breaking his assault along with him. She dashed out in a flurry of ice and snow from under and leapt about 10 meters away to keep her distance and to catch her breath.

_Pant, pant_. Her muscles ached, but not from overexertion, but from a lack of use. She relished at this new challenge her prodigy had put up. Each time she sparred with him, he seemed to last longer. He would anticipated her move, giving a much better fight that it constantly forced her to bring in more tricks of combat. Jacob was quick witted and clever, always inventing new, diabolical strategies to try to bring her down.

He rose from his kneeled position on the ground, great sword resting by his side. She stood a few mere meters away. No words passed between them for they understood one another so well. One stood on the traditionally higher ground and the other, the lesser. But the lesser was rising in rapidity. He was strength and intellect combined with ambition and there was no way the woman standing right in front of him would be his better forever.

Laylah shifted into a lunge and blurred forward, evidence of her movement was cloaked and even in the adequate daylight, he could not see her. Heaven's Needle was pulled into a wide slash, only to be blocked. She lunged to her right, feint, and pulled back left to drive a crippling blow at his knee only for that to be shoved away. _Failed_, she grimaced and leaped forward above his head. The shadow that was supposed to cover his face never registered and she aimed a kick at the back of his neck.

With satisfaction, she watched as the blow connected and sent Jacob sprawling into a pile of snow. She landed on light feet, still cloaked by night and shadow in broad daylight. This was Laylah's specialty in her arts and powers.

As soon as Jacob hit the ground, he blurred and disappeared, leaving no marks on the ground. As if he was never there. Laylah's eyes widened in surprise before she felt cold steel at her throat. "Dead."

"Ahh," Laylah sighed in defeat. Shadows and disguise, it may be her specialty but it didn't solely belong to her anymore now that Jacob was her disciple. It should have disappointed her, but in that moment, she was amazingly proud. Laylah craned her head and saw the demon boy panting in effort. She gave a smile and he lowered his mastiff of a sword.

Laylah gave him a clap on the back in congratulations. "This may actually be the first time where you legitimately outsmarted me, mind you. You're nowhere close to beating me."

"Well, just goes to show how much more I need to go to catch up with you, master." Jacob sighed tiredly and rested his hands on the pommel of his sword, and in the process, drove it into the ground. At the sight of her annoyed gaze, he quickly got his scabbard and sheathed it. "Sorry, proper care of my sword, just like you taught me."

Laylah just shook her head. "I just love it how you're so serious with me now, you take it all in stride, and eagerly too. I almost miss the unruly and rebellious Jacob of before, if, and only if, he didn't poison me."

Jacob cast his eyes downwards in shame. "I'm sorry," he muttered.

"What are you sorry for, boy?" Laylah ruffled the messy mass of dark hair on his head, brushing over the peaking horns that still hid below, "You beat me square and most likely not fair. This calls for a celebration! We should head into town for this." She turned around and started heading for the campfire, where a bowl of breakfast could be found.

"You're still injured you know?" This made her pause. "It's not like I don't notice, Laylah; the way you walk, the way you fly, the way you fight, it's not the same like the fierce Laylah I knew before. The poison took its toll and your health has been going downhill ever since. You won't even care to admit it, and you shrug off all the concern I have shown for you. Instead, you agreed to go off on my outlandish odyssey when you should've been resting and healing."

"I see," she said with her back still turned. "So this is what that lack of ferocity during the fight was all about. Normally, you would fight with an unparalleled resolve, but this time, that had dulled. I attributed it to you just simply being wiser than you were before, but it seems that nothing has changed. You're still the ignorant little boy as when I found you on that desert day. Don't forget who's the stronger one here, because it's certainly not you. I have no need for your concern." And with that, she stomped off.

_It wasn't like he's being inconsiderate, he did try to care and look out for me. But I have to be strong for his sake, can't he see that? Weakness isn't something I can show, not to anyone, and especially not to a male. Who does he think I am, one of his tribal females who are so helpless and reliant on the dominant male?_ She was just simply disgusted.

They ate their breakfast of meager porridge in silence. Laylah kept on shooting glares in Jacob's direction. When they were finished, they heated up some water and scoured the plates with snow. It wasn't the best, and it wasn't the cleanest method, but it was suitable. They would find better sanitary solutions when they happened across an establishment with a proper trading post.

It just so happens that they were heading to one right now. The northern city of Lamarck was situated on the small northernmost tip of the imperfect circle that was Isla Centrum. The Sea of Ice, part of the ocean of Ignoria, bordered it. Lamarck was a vital port city that was bustling during the warmer seasons when trade with Isla Norde brought in ice blocks, salted fish, narwhal meat and caribou. Now, when winter was in full bloom, the Sea of Ice became too cold and treacherous for ships with the numerous icebergs dotting the horizon.

The trading city was only a few leagues away from where they set up camp the night before. The walls would be closed after a certain hour, so they couldn't enter in the dead of night. Well, technically they could on wings and shadowy stealth, but they were law-abiding citizens when they needed to be.

They walked on together in uneasy silence. There was no denying the enormous tension between them. It was all that Jacob could think of, guilt of the incident, and confusion. He didn't understand what Laylah was so mad about. There was absolutely no hope in peering into that woman's mind. He turned his thoughts away from that jumbled mess and looked onwards.

Just ahead, the cold stone walls loomed ever closer. Standing at 20 feet tall, they weren't much of an impressive height to what Jacob was used to upon that desert plateau. Nevertheless, they were effective in their job of keeping the enemy out. In this region of lucrative trade, predators were always out on the waters and in the land. Northern pirates sailed prowled the high seas in their long, ram-like boats. Raiders hid in the desert tundra and rode upon their bestial reindeers. Jacob had not encountered any of them yet, although he suspected that Laylah told him that to ensure that he wouldn't wander off and be devoured by "carnivorous" herdables.

The low wall spread about a distance of two leagues surrounding Lamarck. Towers and battlements lined every two hundred feet with hawk-eyed scouts gazing suspiciously down at all who approached.

Jacob felt tremulous when entering a human-occupied territory. It wasn't the first time that he had interacted with humans. His earlier encounters when traveling with Laylah were a bit nonchalant, since he was able to disguise himself. An adolescent demon child could possibly pass as a human teenager.

Now, as they approached the gate, Jacob grew nervous. The guards on the wall kept shooting glances at him, as if they knew he was not human. Well, Laylah wasn't entirely human either, but she would be well received. Him on the other hand…one could only imagine. He pulled up the hood of his coat to cover his head, more specifically his horns. Leather moccasins and leggings hid his hooves and shaggy feet. Curse his goat heritage!

"Halt! Who goes there?" It was a guard on the wall. This one differed from the rest of the fur-capped heads and greyish blue coats in that he wore a cape. His hard face was covered by a steel helm, but who really wears those up here in the North where it can freeze to your face? _Captain of the watch_, Jacob concluded. _For someone in a position of power, they sure put him through a lot of torture._

The pair stopped before the iron gates. Jacob fully expected Laylah to respond in kind, but she remained silent. Was she still mad with him? He took this as an initiative to respond back. "Ariel and her son Meliorne are at your gates. We come to rest and trade before departing across the sea to Arendelle!" Jacob smiled as watchman came to whisper with the captain at his announcement. It was only natural, in this world; women had very little standing in public society. Oft, a male accompanied a woman while traveling. There was nothing wrong with this.

"Let them through!" the captain shouted and the wooden portcullis rolled up, granting access into the walled city. "Search them," he added as an afterthought.

The guards on the inside ushered them into a barracks where their bags were taken and searched. He feared that the magical tents Laylah brought would be discovered, and thus by connection, he would be discovered as well. To his relief, they only showed their empty brown insides, its secrets closed to those who didn't know magic. The guards gruffly patted them down for weapons, and seeing none, took them back outside.

"I must wonder though," the captain said as he came down a flight of stone stairs slicked by ice and snow. It was a miracle he hadn't slipped and broken his neck yet, for Jacob grew tired of his interference. "why would traders come to Lamarck at this time of year. Anyone with common sense would have stayed home and huddled around their fires. You must really be in desperate need of supplies as people usually stockpile them weeks in advance."

"Sir, we are merely humble travelers with meager belongings. Let us pass so that we may trade within your walled city and we can both be off on our merry way; you to your wall, and I to a cozy inn." This time, that carefully placed outburst came from the silent Laylah. _So, she finally broke out of her silent game._

The officer was taken aback, but only raised an amused eyebrow. "Very well, you are free to go Miss Ariel." He bowed out and gestured the way into town for them. Jacob turned to follow but the man laid a hand on his shoulder. "Lad, take good care of your mother will you?"

Halted and nervous, he could only nod. The officer let him go and waved him off. Jacob hurried his steps to catch up with Laylah, not at all inhibited by the weight of the traveling bags. They were all enchanted so that their hidden mass remained in that other, unreachable pocket dimension.

"Whatever did that bothersome man want?"

"I bet he fancies you." Laylah fell silent at this, then chuckled. "If he thinks I'm that shallow."

"You're not! I doubt that any mortal would be worthy of you." This was another awesome thing about Laylah. She can hold grudges for ages, but when presented with a common foe, she is back to being your friend.

"Oh, Jacob, I appreciate your concern, but I cling to this hope that one day, I will find a man and settle down.

Snow crunched under their feet. Their breath could be seen like fading mist in the air. The dim sunlight revealed wooden longhouses organized in neat circulating rows. The outer ones that were closest to the wall had a larger circumference and the circles kept on decreasing every hundred feet. Boulevards were cut out in this well laid out city and if one followed them inward, they would find themselves at the city center.

Laylah and Jacob were about hallway into the city before they happened across a local inn. A wooden signpost said so, titling it as Gallagher's Hovel. "An inviting name for an inn," muttered Laylah. "We're going in anyways." Jacob rushed to open the swinging wooden doors. He gazed in astonishment at the many lights and merriment the inhabitants were having.

"Boy! Close that door already, you're bringing a draft in!" A tall, lanky man with a full, dark beard greeted him from behind the counter. "What can I get ya?"

Laylah elbowed her way past him to the inside, eager for fresh warmth and the rich scent of the brewery. "Yo, old man Gallagher!" she greeted.

"Old lady Laylah," the man, now identified as Gallagher said and rushed out from behind his counter to embrace her. "It's been much too long my dear, you must be half mad to travel in this freezing weather."

"Ehh, not as mad as you."

"A very fine point my dear. Would you like to warm up with some butter beer? They were freshly brewed today actually." Gallagher wore white checkered overalls covered with a black apron. His hair was a curly mess and his mustache-beard were poofy, perhaps from brewing his stock of liquor.

"Ahh," Laylah took his hand in hers. "Not today, old man. I need to get some supplies and," she shifted her gaze from side to side, searching for any eavesdroppers in the room, "a private room if you will with this young man."

"Ahh, m'boy!" Old man Gallagher was his name. In the very least, he could have been middle-aged. This game of familiarity was quite unfamiliar to Jacob. "Come, come. The both of you. I have very nice room, yes. Cheap, discounted price for old customer and friend."

He led them along through the inn, drawing the gazes of the various customers. The building was quite spacious if it was only one floor with an unobstructed roof, but Gallagher had it all cramped together into 3 floors. The geezer wasn't just called old for nothing, he was trying to maximize his profits by charging a premium for a limited space.

Jacob would be annoyed if he was looking at this from a customer's point of view, but it seemed more like he was seeing this from the refugee point of view. 3 floors up, but in actuality, there was 4. Down the hall of the kitchen, Gallagher brought them into his squished office. The desk was scattered with yellowing paper that listed out products, dates and numbers. Underneath the desk, there was a trash bin. When you shifted it away, a small and rusting manhole was revealed. Judging from observation, it was large enough that a slim person could barely fit through.

Gallagher gestured him over and they heaved the cover away, revealing a vertical ladder that extended down below into darkness. Laylah tossed the bags down. Even though you couldn't see, there was a resounding thud just a moment after.

"Go down Jacob," Laylah hissed. At her behest, he climbed down, gingerly feeling his way with his feet before taking a step. One feet, one rung, one feet, one rung until his moccasin-covered hooves finally clopped on a cold stone floor.

He heard Laylah talking to Gallagher just a few feet above. "I need to go out and gather some supplies. Old friend, I trust that you can look after this boy while I am briefly gone. Thank you for letting us stay, it won't be for long."

"Jacob!" she called down. "Are you alright."

"I'm not dead yet."

She sighed and rolled her eyes, knowing that he couldn't see her. "Be resourceful about your situation, entertain yourself, but whatever you do, do not come out of there until I come for you. Sir Gallagher here has agreed to house you and me, but we depart at dawn. Stay down there, you hear me?"

He stood down there with his arms crossed, knowing that she could see him with her night vision. "Why not? It's perfectly safe right? I mean, no one suspected us of who we really were."

"Not true. The captain of the wall watchers suspects and somehow knows who you are Jacob. He has the whole city guard on high alert. We'll wait out the patrols here tonight, but I need to go get our supplies for travel first."

"How do you know?"

"Twenty minutes." Ahh, he finally realized. She had used the same trick on him earlier at the dinner table in her desert home. She could read anyone's state of mind but only after the duration of twenty minutes had passed.

"Very well, I understand." In fact, he didn't. "Go on and carry out your duties, but don't expect me to remain idle down here."

"I didn't say anything about you sitting around doing nothing. Read 5 chapters from your magical texts before I get back. Gallagher, mind getting him a torch?" He heard an affirmative and then the soft shutting of the door as he left.

"Goodbye Jacob. You'll be safe down here. Just trust me." And with that, she was gone like the wind. Darn that woman, allowing her stealth to take over before he could get a clear look. Anyways, there was nothing to look at down here in this dank hole. He couldn't see a thing, and so he had to wait for Gallagher to come back with some lighting.

Wrong, he can see. Jacob's eyes widened at the brilliant thought that just struck him. If he truly inherited all of Laylah's angel-grade powers over night and stealth… Check anyways to see if it worked. "נוקטורנו חזון-_vision nocturna_," he whispered to himself in the magical language.

His vision swam with dark particulates and when he blinked, it became a clear sight, as bright as day down there. It was a simple stone room down here with two beds, a washbasin and a chamber pot in the corner. The chamber pot he didn't plan on particularly using. He would rather keep the air down here breathable.

He went over and collapsed on the bed, the wooden frame creaked under his sudden weight. The mattress was hard, but soft in comparison to sleeping on the cold, hard ground every day that they traveled. Laylah and Jacob had been traveling for weeks from the desert southwest of Isla Centrum, mainly through flight. Sometimes they slowed and walked on foot because of Laylah's insistence that they experience the landscape from a different point of view. Jacob suspected an ulterior motive.

His mind wandered over to that fact. And suspicion. Sometimes, Laylah would be out of breath after performing a light task, or how she couldn't fly for long hours even though she was carrying a lightweight. Her health was deteriorating, that was for sure, but she was deliberately hiding it from him. He had only been able to glean these changes when she let her guard down.

A few minutes later, Gallagher came back with an oil lamp. The light proved a brief disturbance to his field of night vision, like a miniature sun that blinded you in the darkness. "Oh, no thank you. I won't be needing light from down here, my eyes are sufficient enough."

"If you say so, m'boy. I've brought some warm butter beer and bread along if you are feeling hungry, or thirsty, whichever is more pressing." The innkeeper slid a tray down from a pulley system that Jacob had not noticed before.

He gave his thanks before digging into the soft loaf. This he followed up with a swig of the drink. It wasn't really liquor, but had an amazing taste of sweetness and cloying richness to it. If he were to give a description, it was honey and warm sunshine mixed together into drink form.

"Just send the tray back up the pulley when you're finished. I must be getting back to my duties as a host." Jacob watched as the manhole cover slid back and darkness returned to the room once more.

"I forgot to thank him." No matter, he could do that later when they departed. The meal really was top notch for such a cheap inn, or maybe that was his stomach talking after finally getting some real food.

He went back to the tent packs and rummaged through the unbelievable amount of stuff inside before he found his books neatly bound together by a strip of red ribbon, marking it as his. He lay back down in his bed and sighed in relief. All the stress of the day seemed to melt away and he stared fondly at his texts. Spells and rituals: Everything from Necromancy to Everyday Households. Or, The Daily Life of Wizards. That one was his favorite. It described how males struggled to keep their virginity until the age of 30 so that they can attain great magical powers. Should I do that? Doesn't seem too hard in my case.

Jacob read for hours and in addition to his reading, he had to transcribe the main ideas of each page down on a separate leaflet of parchment. An arduous task that kept him from enjoying his comedies, but it helped him practice his calligraphy. It had only been a few short months since Laylah introduced Jacob to reading and writing. He made modest advancements, but he felt that his reading and writing speeds were not up to par against a well-learned literate.

Jacob suspected that it was near night before Laylah returned. He was already in bed by then, but he was still faintly awake. She brought down many bags of piled luggage. He could just about make them out with his night vision.

Laboriously, she slumped down onto the other bed and didn't bother changing from her traveling clothes. Before she went to bed, she knelt down and prayed. Jacob couldn't make out most of her words, but the few moments where her voice peaked, as if she was desperately pleading to God. "…pray that I find him and that I can save him…have mercy on Lucifer…Amen."

* * *

Author's Note

For a religious story, this is the first time I'll be quoting the Bible.

Credits to the first part of this chapter goes to Keren 41 ( u/6167191/) in her story From White to Black ( s/10823679/1/White-to-Black). I took her awesome pilot chapter and made some renditions to it, and if you have read it, there are some different things like the extension between Lucifer and Mikhael!

I know that it has been a while since I last updated-hopefully I can make it up to you guys with this extra long chapter. Who knows, this might be the new norm as more complex plots are developed.


	9. Chapter 8: Black Ice

From Nobody to Nightmare Chapter 8

Black Ice

Personal Life Insert

My friend Henry is currently in Greenland learning polar sciences as part of a summer program called JSEP. It's a joint program with the United States, Denmark, and Greenland governments focused on teaching biology, chemistry, and geology centered around the artics. He's measuring the water levels of a glacial lake close to Kangerlussuaq. Miraculously, they have wifi service over there so we were able to chat.

Henry tells me that he fell a lot at the ice caps and he's posted some pictures of him attempting to spot polar bears. No luck so far. Working on water is quite dangerous, but it can be a fun experience. He loves Greenland, but as a San Diegan, the experience has made him appreciate the kind weather back in Southern California.

I'd like to bring up this personal information about Henry because the glaciers in Greenland are melting, partly because of summertime, but are really melting due to climate change. I'm currently attending a summer program of my own (COSMOS) at the University of California San Diego, and many of my friends here are taking a course centered around oceanography and climate change. Humanity has left its mark upon the world in the enormous release of carbon dioxide and other greenhouse gases that contribute to global warming. Even in this ideally perfect San Diego weather, I already feel the changes. Last year in 2014 was the hottest recorded summer in the United States and the heat this year is not proving to be any better. The state of California is undergoing a serious drought in which we haven't seen significant rainfall in a long time. It's gotten to the point where regulations have limited the amount of water available to each household.

Sea levels are rising and will continue to rise even if humanity altogether stops its industrial and agricultural pollution of the environment. Many great cities around the world are vying to become the next Atlantis, and that includes my hometown San Diego. My favorite animals of the North, polar bears, are slowly dying of starvation. The polar ice caps are melting and that limits access to their main food source: seals. Sometimes I worry that when the next generation of children come along, all those animals in picture books won't exist anymore.

* * *

It was a few hours close to dawn when he was shaken out of his sleep. "Jacob, Jacob, it's time," Laylah hissed at him. Blinking away the grogginess of sleep, he shook off his confusion and immediately set out to help her pack. Food, clothes, everything was dumped into the easily portable tents. Never mind organization, that could be done later when they were safe and out of the city.

Adrenaline pumped through his blood, keeping him alert and awake. There was no need to use the hormone facilities of epinephrine, more like urgency made those needs incomparable to escape. His night vision was still running. Jacob's nocturne gaze cut across the room and went straight towards the wooden ladder bolted into the rock face. Laylah gestured for him to go up first, empty-handed. He clambered up and felt the swift tugs on his yearning muscles. It was a good feel, like doing morning exercises right after you wake up.

He reached the topmost extent of the ladder and felt his horns lightly brushing up against the metal grating. Gingerly positioning himself on the ladder so that his legs alone can support him, he allowed his free hands to push upwards and slide the metal rim back. From there, he darted upwards through the hole with his wings tucked tightly against his shoulders to fit through.

Laylah tossed him the bags from down below, and they performed this sort of conveyor belt thing. After all of the packages had been secured, Laylah hoisted herself up on the ladder, with her wings folded tightly behind her back. It was painful for the both of them having to fold in their wings. It was for the purpose of disguise; no one must know what they were in this place.

Well, it was fine for them to know Laylah, she would be well taken in. Their savior. But he? He would be hanged or even burned alive. Demon. Devil. Satan. They were all harsh words used to describe his kind and a whole cult of humanity was dedicated towards their utter eradication, not just in race and being, but in ideology as well. A frightening reality that he had stepped into, especially in this town of Lamarck.

They had avoided any large human settlement up to this point for the fear of discovery. Jacob was still too weak to fend for himself against human magicians who were always on the lookout for any subversive beings. Upon discovery…well, interrogation would be too kind of a word.

Laylah had only informed him of this late last night as they were about to make their escape. An Inquisitor had come knocking on Gallagher's door. He had no choice but to let them in and they searched the entirety of the inn and every room. Privacy was not a concern and many...lewd acts were halted midway that night. It's best to say that the innkeeper was not at all pleased to have two high-risk fugitives in his care.

The kitchens were empty this late at night and were only illuminated by a single candle in the room. The lone flame cast off long shadows in a dark room and barely showed you where things were. That sort of illumination was more than necessary. Jacob and Laylah pattered about on light feet past all the pots and pans cast aside in this room. The Inquisition was certainly rough with Gallagher that they left no stone unturned. Well, except the place where they actually hid. Jacob had heard them late last night, rummaging around his office but never discovering their hiding place.

From there, they went on into the main hallway. Here, lanterns hung on each side of the long corridor and led the way back to the common rooms. The inn was eerie at night, or early morning as it is now. It was usually a place of great public gathering, and sound would always echo from somewhere, whether that be from the rooms, the kitchen, or the pub. In this silence, it was ghost-dead. Just goes to show how sleep makes everyone vulnerable.

Onward into the pub, there was a single light and a dark figure hunched over the counter. He glanced up at their approaching figure and they could finally identify him. It was Gallagher, and his thick beard seemed to droop this morning. He was taking a swig out of one of his mighty, wooden tankards. It wasn't his own stock of butterbeer, but something more potent and alcoholic. Whiskey?

Gallagher's eyes were rimmed with red as he glared at them from under his thick brows. "I won't deny it, I'll be glad to see you gone. Bad business is the last of my worries when compared to death threats. You know why I did this for you old woman? It's because you promised to bless my daughter. And now she's dead."

There was a rapid change in personality to him. It was as if all the friendliness he had exhibited only a few hours ago were gone. Now, he was trying to drown out his sorrows in drink, not exactly caring that he was wasting his own profits. What exactly had the Inquisition done to him?

Laylah gave a sideways glance at him, as if he was an insignificant that drew her attention away from the ultimate goal. "Yes, I did. The Lord appreciates the loyalty you have proven to his servants tonight and you will be rewarded."

Gallagher sighed in defeat. "That's all that you offer, isn't it? Empty promises and broken dreams." The emotion in the man's voice was crushing and defeating to Jacob's ears. It drew his sympathy.

"I am a devout follower of the Lord. That is why I helped you tonight Laylah, as I have always helped you. I do not believe what those priests are spouting off, they make a mockery of the Lord in order to benefit themselves. But you, you're the closest thing to the real deal. And all you have given to those who've touched you is disappointment. Watch your back boy," Gallagher growled at Jacob. "She might stab you one day."

This harsh remark seemed to draw away Laylah's attention. Her face appeared cool and calm, but Jacob knew better. She was livid and ready to strike someone down. Never before had he insulted her this seriously, but every time he insulted her, she had always come back with a repercussion. Jacob just felt a need to apologize on Gallagher's behalf before the man's head was lost.

"Umm, Mr. Gallagher, we truly thank you for your hospitality." Gallagher raised an eyebrow. This was the first time that Jacob actually addressed him. "If it pleases you, we will take our leave now and you'll never have to see our likes again."

Gallagher just grunted. "What are you to her, boy?"

Jacob had no answer to that.

"Whatever it is…" he took a long draught and sighed in satisfaction with lips smacking and butterbeer dripping down into his beard, "you watch yourself around her."

Laylah stormed out ahead and slammed the door on her way out. He sheepishly smiled and apologized before hurrying up after her. On their way out, there was a sharp contrast between what was indoors and what was outdoors. The temperature had dropped now that they left the warm abode. The familiar scent of cloying sweetness was replaced by the sharp chill of clean and cold air.

Jacob turned to the angel standing at his side. The sun had started to rise from the east. Up here in the north, the warm rays never seemed to reach the inhabitants. Not only was the place cold, but the people even colder. Not even the warmth of the fireplace could change the nature of people, even one such as Gallagher could grow harsh when the fire was snuffed out.

Laylah flipped up her hood and started walking. Jacob ran a hand through his tousled hair. His fingertips brushed against the tips of his peaking horns. If he had gotten a haircut, they would be showing proudly. Laylah even insisted upon it, but for the sake of travel, he had to keep his hair long. After a few short months, it was now creeping down the nape of his neck and fanned out above his brow. It was important that he be able to pass himself off as a human when passing by human inhabited areas. Much easier to avoid a confrontation than win won. He flipped his hood up too, and relished at the softness of the furred fabric.

He had to wonder however. How did the captain of the watch notice him? It's not like he willingly revealed himself as a demon. No, that would be stupid and he would've lost his head for that. And what was this Inquisition that Laylah talked about?

The streets were still dark and unlit. The sky was still that shade of indigo where you could make out where things were, but not really be able to define them. The fur of his moccasins muffled the clopping of his hooves upon rough and uneven cobblestone. There was a slight discomfort in pretending to be something else, something that wasn't in his nature to be. But he knew he must do it. As evidenced by his clothing, the only problem was if he did it well.

They came on top of a hill

There was a shout of a man from behind them, calling for reinforcements in his harsh northern tongue. "Intruders! Intruders within the streets!" Jacob got his answer then. Laylah told him he had terrible fashion preferences. Perhaps she was right. The man was dressed in peculiar red robes, like that of the men of faith he had seen during his travels. The robes hung off his arms like great volumes of excess fat and was long. Long enough that it extended down to his feet and brushed the ground upon which he stood.

He had to wonder, how that man could bear to run around and get those wonderfully embroidered hems sullied. Maybe he didn't run. Monks weren't known for being in shape.

Jacob lifted a hand and pointed an index finger at the monk in the shape of a futuristic weapon no one yet knew about. He willed for the frigid northern air around him to blow in the direction of his finger. A gust came downwards in a curve right in front of the man before coming back up and flipping the ends of his robes over his face. He watched in satisfaction as the man tumbled over.

The monk cried in rage before flipping back up from where he lay on the ground. Jacob only got a glance of white fabric from his undergarments and grimaced as he failed to turn away in time. Not a pretty sight, but it can't be helped.

The bald man dashed towards them. _He was moving too fast for a human. He's almost on top of me!_ Glints of silver appeared from the depths of the monk's robes. In a flurry of fabric and a swing of limbs, the monk raised his hands upwards, allowing Jacob the brief view of a wooden hilt etched with runes. Then there was a burning slash on Jacob's forearms as he raised them to block the descending blow.

Hidden blades. Damn.

His heart pumped fast in advance for the increased physical activity. Jacob swung his moccasin covered hoof against the warrior monk's chest, delivering a powerful blow that would've caved in his chest cavity. Except it didn't.

The monk was still standing, and that act only succeeded in pushing him back a few feet. Then there came a second kick, a side-swing that swept the man's face to the ground and rendered him unconscious. This time, it came from a different foot.

"Well it was about time, Laylah."

"You were holding out on your own just fine." She came to stand stoically next to him, with her feet planted firmly apart upon the now blood spattered cobblestone.

"We should really run," he grunted, then fell to his knees. The thing about adrenaline is that it warns you about the imminent pain just a little bit too late. Now, it hits you face first like an ox driven cart at full speed and all you can think about is the pain. His slashed forearms were now burning unnaturally. Jacob watched with blackening vision as his flesh smoldered-muscles and tendons withering away. _Damn, why didn't we carry our weapons outside of the bags?_

Laylah rushed over to his side. She had a seriously worried look on her face that just shouted _what's wrong with you!_ Her light caress over his arms was anything but soothing. "A sacred weapon. Doused in holy water before use and coupled with some pretty harsh runes. This is the work of exorcists."

"Hold on. מגניב_, _להרגיע_, _לרפא_. Cool, soothe, heal," _she chanted it over and over until the blistering pain faded away and was replaced by an incessant itching. It was so unbearable that he had to squirm in agony to satisfy the urge to itch, but the iron grip Laylah had on his arms didn't let him go anywhere. "Oh no you don't. Let it heal."

He whimpered over and over until the tremors went away. The tribulations felt like ages before it finally ended, leaving him physically and mentally exhausted. He leant over to smile at her and asked, "Laylah, I don't feel like running anymore. Care to carry me?"

She chuckled. "Oh, I don't think we can run in our current state."

She mentioned 'our' which really puzzled him. He was the only one wounded here. As his senses gradually returned to him, he noticed people off in the distance surrounding them. A crowd. More like a mob-of soldiers. They all wielded halberds whose tips pointed menacingly in their direction, ready to stab and pierce. Laylah and Jacob were boxed in by a ring of steel, with their backs held up against the cold stone walls of an alley.  
That was the problem with this land. It was cold. Cold stone walkways, cold beds, cold soup, even the sun was cold. Whether you lived or died, the cold was forever there, lying overhead like a constant sword held only by a piece of thread. Now, they were probably going to die.

The ring of steel parted to reveal two individuals. The duo walked through the lines of soldiers and one of them revealed himself to be a familiar figure. It was that hard, square face placed under the cap of an iron helm. The captain of the wall guard. The man next to him stood in regal red robes with a necklace of wooden beads spilling over his chest. On his wrists were bracelets of the wooden cross. If Jacob had to put a word for him, never had he seen a man so decorated in cheap jewelry.

"Captain, well met," Laylah spoke. She turned to the robed man, "and you must be the Inquisitor of this fair town."

"And you are without a doubt the unabashed trespassers of this here town. Nonhumans the both of you clearly are. Demons more like," the Inquisitor said with a drawl staring at Jacob's now scarred hands. "Possessing within you the ability to counter holy spells and wound one of our dear brothers of the faith. This brutality is exactly what makes your kind unfit to live on this Earth given to us by God."

"Inquisitor, you no doubt are a reasonable man and it is not without reason that you didn't kill us outright-"

"Ah yes, you're right. Finish them!" He waved his hands and Jacob half expected for the ring of steel to close in and spear his his heart(s).

But that command brought out a different kind of motion. Just several meters in his range of vision, several people drew their hands back and placed them in front of some curved objects. Recurve bows to be exact, which makes them archers. _Sharpshooters from atop the roofs. These humans are clever indeed. We never would've picked them up._

Bow strings were pulled back and fletched feathers brushed against their cheeks. His heightened vision could see it all from meters away. His curved ear tips finally picked up the twang as the pressure was released and the arrowheads were allowed to fly. Jacob closed his eyes. He couldn't bear to look the cause of his death right in the face.

He waited and waited but the piercing pain never came. Nor was there a loss in conscious that would result from a direct hit to his cranium. He opened his eyes to see a shade of utter white brilliance reflecting the morning sunlight into- "multifaceted rainbows," he breathed.

Laylah had thrown up her wings just in time to protect them, but judging from the gasps from the people outside, her secret was out. She still hugged him tight and close to her chest. "Don't close your eyes when you're about to die Jacob. Look at Death right in the face like an old friend. He gave you up in the beginning and he shall receive you at the end."

Her white wing parted to reveal the pair to the crowd of humans, who gazed on in ever growing shock, awe, and a hint of fear. "Don't want to die just yet? " she asked, her voice loud and unwavering. "Kill and throw Death something fresher."

Her other black wing unfolded from her back, expanding and enveloping into a much larger space. Jacob can only imagine that to the onlookers, Laylah was a puzzling figure of black and white, knowing not whether to trust or be wary. It was so large that it forced the halberdiers back several steps in fright. Their ring of steel was breaking-there was a chance to break out.

"Hold your fire!" the captain of the guard yelled. "It's an angel. An angel! What blasphemy do you dare commit by raising your hand against an angel?" He chastised them with fire in his words, and there it was again, the hint of fear. The man took off his iron helmet, revealing his closely shaved and balding hair, before bending the knee.

"Ms. Ariel now was it? Or should I call you Angel Ariel? I am deeply ashamed of my men's actions and offer my most humble apologies in not knowing the true identity and significance of such a visitor to Lamarck."

Laylah was unarmed, yet her stance bespoke aggression. Her expression on the other hand was one of calm fury. "For a man with greater religious conviction, I don't see you bowing too, Inquisitor."

The red-robed man hurriedly fell to his knees and prostrated himself before her. "My-my most humble apologies." Seeing the Inquisitor's actions, the rest of the crowd bowed before Laylah. Rows upon rows of people submitted themselves to just one soul. It was a sight that caused chills in Jacob. All the hairs on his body seemed to lift and quiver. It was a good feeling to be on top.

"I-I will have the men who fired upon you hanged if that so pleases you, Angel Ariel." The watchman didn't so much as raise his head as he suggested the deaths of his own men. Just goes to show how fanatical people can really get over religion.

"That won't be necessary." This time it was Jacob who spoke out. He gathered himself up on unsteady feet and felt the attention of the crowd focusing on him. They didn't look at him, no. Which made the task of public speaking all the more easier.

"You who dared lay your hand and intended harm upon the sanctity of Heaven. We are very displeased." He paused here and glared at any who would dare look up from their position on the ground. "However, Heaven is not without mercy. You have restricted us in our travels. We would be overly pleased if you would help accelerate our journey." For once, he was glad that his hooves allowed him to stand tall.

"Procure these items," Laylah called, finally stepping in and taking charge from Jacob. She shot him a glare that warned him not to interfere. _Whoops, too late._ She rattled off a list of supplies to the head watchman. When she was done, she dismissed the watchman.

"Now, on to other business…" Laylah glared at the still kneeling Inquisitor. You have dared take the life of my dear disciple, Meliorne." She unsheathed Needle from her pack and swung it in a wide arc to her side, for all to see. "Heaven demands retribution. Is there any among you here who denies my claim?"

Her eyes glared out over the crowd, now blood red with fury. Jacob could only stare at her in shock, his body frozen in terror. _Was she really going to do what I think she's going to do?_ She raised the sword above her head into a two-hand grip and whether it was a trick of the light, the thin fencing blade lengthened and thickened into what he could imagine was an executioner's sword.

"Seeing none," she adjusted her grip on her now massive sword into a better position for a downwards swing. "Kneel and accept your punishment with grace."

The Inquisitor shook his head, and begged for mercy. He was whimpering, murmuring hearsays like "I would never do it again" and "Please, Heaven forgive." He had truly done nothing wrong, Jacob found no fault in the man. He was about to speak out to Laylah to spare the man, but his voice caught in his throat. His protests died and his eyes widened. Laylah had already swung.

The blade came down like the legendary sword above Damocles' head had once done, its string finally snipped. Laylah swung with all her might, the blade coming down in a barely visible blur to that of the onlookers. Jacob saw it differently. With his heightened senses, that particular moment seemed to him like a horror film shown in 0.5 speed. Laylah's eyes, normally a dull maroon like that of decaying rust was alive like bloody fire. There was a certain hint of madness in her enragement. Sunlight glinted off of Needle x Executioner's sword. Then he blinked. And everything sped up back again.

A silent 'shink' echoed as flesh departed from bone. The Inquisitor's head went flying into the crowd, sinew and muscle cleanly and evenly cut with the downward vertical slice delivered by Laylah. Then there was the resounding, earsplitting screech as the sword slammed down onto the stone floor. The force of the impact left a spiderweb of cracks and a small crater of shattered stone.

Laylah's silver hair covered her face as she bent down, still in the pose after striking down the Inquisitor. Her breathing came out rough and heaving, not from physical exertion, but from the unsatisfying fury of not doing enough to make the man suffer. The crowd remained silent, all eyes on them. The Inquisitor's head lay forgotten. Everyone hovered around in fear over her next words.

"Back to your business! What are you standing around for?" she howled as she finally stood up, using her sword as support. The onlookers quickly and quietly scurried away, back to their houses. There was an audible slamming and locking of doors and windows, as if any conspicuous detail of inhabitation would make them the next ones to die at the angel's hands.

At that moment, Jacob thought that she was the one more demonic than he.

They quickly received their supplies in a brown burlap sack from the watchman, who left as quickly as the rest. The whole ordeal lasted about half an hour, and the sun was just beginning to make its slow and curved ascent through the sky. In the northern hemisphere, especially in winter time, they could count on it to shine only for a few measly hours.

Jacob and Laylah returned to their journey of making it North. The duo made their way to the docks of Lamarck first. The surrounding rings of houses finally ended here, above a rocky outcropping that led down to the sea. A large wooden walkway, spanned down towards the beach.

The rocks around here were as dark as the weather. Altogether, they morphed into a sheltered cove that proved to be a natural harbor. Two lighthouses were situated at opposite ends of the cove, providing a perfect range of operability for passing ships to travel. Currently, both lighthouses were unlit and unmanned; the shipping season had come to a close for the winter due to unpredictable and treacherous weather. The docks were empty as well, he noticed. Normally, a few people would be left around here who would come to solicit in this economical part of town. Now there was no one around. He guessed that news travels fast when a psychotic angel was heading your way.

All this time, Jacob hadn't spoke a word to Laylah. He was greatly disturbed by her actions. She had murdered a man in cold blood, and he was the one left guessing. He knew that she did it for him, she did it to protect him. They were the people who went after him and harmed him, but wasn't she the person who argued that one should be compassionate? Didn't the teachings of the Lord say that one has to be willing to forgive someone who wronged them? Jacob wasn't seriously injured or anything, thanks to Laylah's healing.

He knew that he was the one who should be mad, yet Laylah was the one who did it in his place. Killing that man really wasn't what he wanted. A few weeks ago, that would've been on his life goals as a demon. But Laylah was the one who taught him better, to not seek revenge, to not stain one's hands with blood.

It wasn't the first time that these ideals were brought into his life. His parents tried their darndest to teach him these things. They said that senseless violence was exactly that, for the senseless. Demons had the potential to do so much better and to be so much better. They could cooperate as a society of one, but instead they were split into factions and races, fighting one another for dominance and resources. Much could be accomplished with peace, and nothing could be attained from war.

He ignored that peaceful mindset. His friends and playmates scoffed at these ideals and instead resorted to the traditional sense of governance, survival of the fittest. Those who were the strongest could be at the top of the hierarchy and could own it all. That thought was a straight shot of addiction to a young demon. To want it all and to have it all.

The problem with that mindset was that only a few could succeed. Only a select elite could prosper. The select few who could grow into the cruelest and the strongest. Jacob, curse his genetic origins, took after a herbivore for a mother and a wingless goblin for a father. He hadn't a chance of getting to the top of that hierarchy with mindless, bruteful force.

Laylah taught him differently in a way that left an impression. Dictatorship. Whatever her ideals happened to be, whatever Heaven happened to stand for, it was also his reality, albeit forced upon. There was no arguing against it, it was just simply factual truth. "God knows best and God knows all. So why question him?" she would say. Blind faith wasn't his avenue of thought. He wanted the deep reasoning behind things.

When pressed, Laylah would sit him down and tell him that helping others is supposed to be in everyone's nature. "Sometimes I don't think that God gave 10 Commandments for us to follow, but only one. And that is to help others. Even demons, you help your own young and your own kin. Now if only you could do that with every other species…" she would ruffle his head playfully and they'd break out into laughter.

Well they weren't laughing now. Jacob turned to her and tried to utter her name, "Laylah-" but she had to cut him off.

"Speak your mind or don't. I know what you want to ask me. It's been bothering you these whole 20 minutes." _Ahh, the mind reading thing._

He thought carefully about it and mulled his thoughts carefully. She might not know what was in his immediate mind and it just felt wrong to leave thoughts unsaid. "I know that what you did back there was for me. It was for my safety, my protection. I am your disciple and those who dare lay a hand on me by extension has laid a hand on you.

You are within your rights to retaliate as you did. However, the moral reasoning may not be justified. Why though? Why did you do have to kill him?"

She turned to him with a blank face: gaunt, cold and expressionless. It was even more frightening than when she was mad, at least then he could guess what her motives are. "Usually, a person isn't concerned for the people they hardly know. So why the bother? It's not required of you, it's not expected of you. Yet you do it anyways. The real question here Jacob is why? Why did you react like that?"

He clenched his teeth in anger and balled his hands into a tight fist. "In the name of common decency, why shouldn't you be concerned over someone, over anyone who's hurt? It was you who taught me that and here I see you doing quite the opposite. I see a hypocritical angel who preaches good and does bad. You're not the angel who I've come to respect."

"Well you're right!" she broke out. The strain around her voice started to show and her facade of indifference started to crack. "My job here is to get my hands sullied. Your job is to sit and watch. What do you think I am? What do you think we angels are? Models of perfection? Hah, don't make me laugh." With her hair whipped wild and her eyes widened, she bordered on the depths of madness.

"Someone's got to do the dirty work around here. That Inquisitor with his head now lopped off, committed grave sins. He tortured as well as execute innocent civilians. He turned away refugees who came to the town and left them out to die in the icy desert wastes. Those refugees number in the hundreds. You could easily have been one of them." That last part she uttered with a faint breath. It was hard to hear, but the echoes paired with her lip movements convinced him that she said that.

"Everyone around here are sinners and only we can be forgiven. We do the biddings of the Lord to purge this world of the most wicked and unworthy. This is the fate of an avenging angel. Do you understand, Jacob?"

She appealed to his worst memories and emotions. The desperation of survival. The harder struggle that made him break down and cry. Those desert days were painfully fresh in his mind. Gazing around at the rocky outcroppings and the icy tundra, this place wasn't much different compared to the desert in which he himself survived from. Thinking back to the days when the boys of his village played around, they hadn't a consideration for the weaker. It was either bloody or be bloodied.

"Everybody's a sinner. I care about this because there shouldn't be anymore sin. You say that Heaven is a better place, where this pain and suffering exists not. You as a being of Heaven are better than that. You've stooped down to the level of sinners. That shouldn't even be possible. Just, uggh!" He paced around her in a circle. This level of frustration just wanted him to clutch at his head and tear his hair out.

_No, no. Calm down. You need the hair to keep on passing off as a human._

"Well Jacob, tell me. What could I have done back there that was different? How would you have wanted this to end? Was there anyway that Justice could have been done?" she asked with her arms crossed one over the other. Laylah seemed to have calmed down a bit by now, but still had that face that said 'one more wrong word and I am so ready to disown you.'

"I-I don't know." He was lost and defeated. What could he have done? Taken the man into custody and take him along on their journey? No. Who would be the one to deal out Justice? God. But he was postponing that until Judgement Day, according to the Holy Book. Let him be and have him continue on in his job? No. More crimes would have been committed.

"What do you do when there is an evil you cannot defeat by just means? Do you stain your hands with evil to destroy evil, or do you remain steadfastly just and righteous even if it means surrendering to evil?"

He finally understood it now. Justice out here in this wild and untamed land was the one that you dealt out. Those who were in charge had the responsibility of maintaining order, whatever resemblance that may be. Then there needs to be those who makes sure those in power were doing their job. Laylah was judge, jury and executioner and by her angelic status as a servant of God, she was therefore right.

Even those human institutions that purport themselves as servants of God might be false. They hide behind his holy name to commit acts of villainy that abuse their boundaries and the rights of others just to further themselves. It just goes to show that nothing is ever perfect or as it seems. Are angels the only things that are capable of delivering true Justice and Judgement from the Lord? Well, he would just have to see.

"You commit evil. The end result outweighs the means of obtaining it," he replied. His voice was firm and his stance confident. He said it with every moral fiber in his being protesting against it. This was so wrong on so many levels, but it was the only avenue of freedom that was realistically attainable.

Laylah's blood red eyes blinked and they returned to their rustic maroon shade. It seems she was calm now. He had successfully defused her. _Whew! _She swiveled around on the balls of her feet, with the grace of a dainty ballerina but also with the form and rigidity of a soldier, to face the sea. "Look over yonder. What is it that you see?"

The northern sea was gray and frothy. Brine swirled up in swells only to spill over onto the wooden beams of the pier. Fine spray misted over Jacob's face, bringing with it the tanginess of cold sea breeze.

"A brewing storm."

"Yes, that too," Laylah murmured offhandedly, "but what else?"

"I don't know what you want me to see," Jacob growled. He was still begrudgingly mad at her for forcing her rhetoric down his throat. What does she want him to see?

"Use your eyes. Like really use them."

She of course meant his enhanced vision. Demonic eyes can pick things out at a distance of half a league on a bright and sunny day. Whatever she wanted him to see must be small indeed.

"עיניים חידדו-_sharpened eyes._" There was a dizzying lurch as the lenses in his eyes zoomed into unnatural levels. The distant gray clouds that he was seeing turned into blinding, brilliant white. The sun apparently shone on that patch of sea while a storm brewed. A strange phenomenon in and of itself. People likened that when the sun shone while it was raining, it meant that the Devil was beating his wife.

He zoomed out for a bit and saw the full view.

"An iceberg," he breathed. It was amazing. A massive sheet of ice with a height of 20 meters rose above the water's surface. He couldn't judge the distance it was from here, but it must have been very close. About a couple leagues away at best.

"_That_, is where we're headed. It will take us North."

"I thought icebergs broke away from glacial sheets and often headed south to melt," Jacob breathed. Its size was massive and that was all that he could see above the water. The underbelly of it must be huge!

"Well...this one's special."

He gave her a critical stare, all the frustration from before already evaporated. "You mean to say you called it here?"

Laylah only blinked. "The Angel of the North sends his well wishes Jacob. Best accept it." With that, she took off on wings of radical white and radiant black, and not a single glance back to see if he was following.

_Well there was no need_, he sighed in exasperation. He was going to follow her anyways. Jacob' leather backed wings flared out, and their claw tips held up to his ear. His flight muscles were young and nimble. They yearned to flap. They yearned to soar.

He took off running across the wooden pier. The soaked wooden boards gave a satisfying thud as his hoofed feet dashed over them. Wet spray glanced across his face. The end of the pier quickly came into view. A smile slowly creeped across his lips before he reached the end of the walkway and threw himself over the railing and into the churning waters.

Jacob gave a wild whoop of joy as he fell. His leather wings flapped hard and propelled him above and over the water. His vision, still enhanced, locked onto Laylah's shrinking form.

"To the black ice, and the angel with a black heart."

* * *

Author's Note

I know I spiced things up in the Insert this chapter. It's quite true. My friend is off in Greenland and I do live in San Diego, California. I've never really shared much about my personal life, so let's continue that in later chapters. You're not here to learn about me, you're here to learn about...Maou-sama!

I had one quote planned out, but the context of this chapter was just too different to use it. I didn't mean for this chapter to go on this long on this topic, but I think it's something worth exploring. The moral standards and the inner, personal workings of the individual are paramount to the future decisions that they will make later on in life. Jacob's is interesting to plot out and explore. He's essentially raised as a morally correct individual, while his true identity calls for something beyond that. Now that he has met someone who shares that same moral conviction, he sees the hypocrisy in the acts that she commits.

This will mark a turning point in morals as well as innocence for our young Jacob.

Next time, and I do mean next time, I believe we should build a snowman. I mean, do you guys want to?


	10. Chapter 9: Wintercombe

From Nobody to Nightmare Chapter 9: Wintercombe

Artwork Insert

On the matter of my life – Cards Against Humanity

Card 1: Getting Windows 10 only to have it become a major First World Problem (FWP) and shackle gaming access to the Microsoft Store™, then acquiring a sore anus from sitting in a car ride for 2 hours.

Card 2: That's how I wanna die.

Artwork Insert

On the matter of my life – Cards Against Humanity

Card 1: Getting Windows 10 only to have it become a major First World Problem (FWP) and shackle gaming access to the Microsoft Store™, then acquiring a sore anus from sitting in a car ride for 2 hours.

Card 2: That's how I wanna die.

* * *

Ice was the name of the game. In this haven fort without sustenance, freezing to death was a real problem. It was such a struggle to stay warm without the necessary fuel for a fire, or heat for that matter. No wood, no coal, no pitch - nothing. He was forced to huddle inside the tent, wrapped in his warm, fleece coat. Heck, even the fur of some poor animal wasn't satisfying enough. They were taking up residence on a huge chunk of floating ice for goodness' sake.

It had been about two days now since they had departed Lamarck via iceberg. Their ice cruiser and fortress now floated north, instead of going south to warmer waters. The iceberg was shaped like that of a mini-mountain., with gently sloping sides. Around its rounded perimeter was flatland. Jacob and Laylah took up residence on the north face of the mountain. This was just the tip of the iceberg. They had yet to explore the interior, leading down to the core and the underbelly that bottomed out to the icier depths of the Northern Sea.

"How would you call a temporary residence? A sojourn?" The voice came from a hidden ball of wrapped blankets and fur in a corner of their tent.

"That's precisely it," Laylah said. She was hunched over at the corner of their two beds, which were pushed against each other to conserve any semblance of living space in the tiny tent that they were a part of. She gave a final, tight tug, tying the laces of her boots to complete that secure not of hers. But if she was there, then that meant the other person had to be Jacob.

"I would like to refute that definition then. There is no way that this is our safe haven. It's much too cold." Jacob quickly rifled through the pages of a dictionary before slamming it closed.

"Well, it's the best place we've got. If you don't mind sleeping outside, then please do. You are my guest here."

"Your guest," he spat. "I'm your slave who does all that you bid. And at the end of the day, you wave your hands magically and say, "I have taught you a very important lesson."

"I guess you've summoned the ethical core of apprenticeship, Jacob." She cracked a smile from him with that.

There was a sort of tension between them in the first few days after the incident in Lamarck. He shut himself up in his little corner of the tent. They only spoke at times of necessity, and that lack of interaction really pained Laylah. The two of them had gotten along so well, and now this... It was as if the atmosphere froze his usually empathetic and caring attitude. She smiled a bit inside as his emotions thawed and showed.

"Damn right I did. Now how much longer until we get there?" Jacob was buried under his pillow and blankets. He had brought with him a veritable amount of texts to read under a ball of magical werelight, for when he read in dimmed darkness under the covers. Now, these dry and faded tomes spilled out of his haven of warmth as he opened a slit from under the covers.

He peeked over from his hikikomori paradise at the angel. What she was doing was a strange thing to him. It seemed that she was dressing up in an attire that was unsuitable for lazing around the house.

"Wait, what are you doing?"

"I'm gonna go outside for some exercise," she said cheerfully as she slipped on a furred sleeve coat.

"You know, despite preaching vegetarianism, you seem to have an obsession with the skin of dead animals. Where did that one come from again?"

"Direwolf, six-foot length and about 50 kilos. He was a chomper, that one. Kept him as a pet for a while until he proved impractical for transportation. Snuffed him out on the spot, quick and painless That reminds me, you have gazelle in you right?"

"Goat." He didn't miss that jab. "Alright, alright, you're forcing me along on this 'exercise' mission." He marked that single, hated word with air quotations. To emphasize his great reluctance, he whined that the text he was reading was really informative in magyck.

"Really, let's see you practice it."

"Well, it's really complicated in theory to perform...-"

She shook her head and cut him off there. "That's it, you're coming outside for a run. Get the oxygen pumping through your deprived limbs. No questions, no complaints."

Laylah's eyes grew cold when she saw him still laying there.

"Get dressed. Now!"

"Alright, alright."

He stripped out of his comfortable pajamas, all the way down to his briefs. Once upon a time, he would've been burning in shame to stand there, nearly naked, in front of Laylah. Now, that awkwardness had gone. He quickly rummaged through the rucksacks and pulled out a white, loose, form-fitting shirt as well as some dark cargo shorts to go with the occasion.

When he went for his moccasins as a form of footwear for his hooves, Laylah shook her head. "Those won't do. They won't keep traction on the ice." She took a look in one of the packs that the villagers had supplied, muttering, "I'm pretty sure I ordered them. Ahh, here they are."

She came back up with what looked like hulking bricks, hollowed out in the middle in the shape of a hoof.

"Hoof boots!"

"Umm, alright." He placed one hoof in the first shoe and halted. "To be honest with you, I don't know how to work this thing."

"Neither do I."

He just glared at her. "You're enjoying this aren't you?"

"I mean, it's not my problem. I just need you to properly suit up." She crossed her arms, right over left, and stared at his progress. Laylah was outfitted in high, leather boots, a furred windbreaker over a grey undershirt and black jeggings. Jacob couldn't help but appraise her for her fashion sense.

"No one is here to look at you, so why bother?" he grumbled.

He dropped down immediately and got to work on the hoof boots. Feeling around the shoe dimensions, he could tell it was a bit too large for his small feet. He discovered two screws on the bottom that you could adjust your size in. Jacob quickly unscrewed them off and put them back on in the correct position to fit his still growing legs. Good thing they were adjustable. Some shoes were merciless to quick growers, and you had to shell out for new shoes every few months or so.

Rolling his eyes, he came back up and wiped his hands on the sides of his shorts.

"There. Happy?"

"Quite." With that, she spun around and headed straight for the tent entrance. The flaps unzipped themselves and parted out of her way as she approached, but quickly closed back when it came to Jacob's turn.

He heard a muffled giggle from outside. Slightly annoyed, he furiously unzipped the thing and shoved it aside before heading out to join Laylah.

"Why did it do that?" he pointed angrily.

"Guess it didn't recognize you. You haven't been outside once these past three days."

Her tone wasn't accusing as he would normally expect it to be. It was sad, mixed with a little bit of disappointment that things had turned out this way between them. Even the best role models are hypocrites. Even the best role models aren't perfect.

Which is why he resolved to make it up between them now. Whatever conflict that they may have had in the past couldn't interfere with their current relationship. He needed to learn from her and the best way to do that was to get on her good side.

"I guess I'm sorry Laylah. I'll work hard to do whatever you want me to do today."

She was a bit surprised by that and turned a raised brow. "Well, I'm glad you said that because you are going to die today." Laylah pointed outwards and Jacob followed the trail of her hand.

The view from here was magnificent. Blinding white was the iceberg, just like the first time he laid eyes on it with a focused vision. It was mountainous as he mentioned before, with gently sloping sides. Now he didn't remember that when he first saw it. The crags were more jagged and sinister as if it would be their very pleasure to impale him or in the very least, make him fall to his doom. It seemed Laylah had done some landscaping while he was asleep.

Around the smoothed out perimeter were clear cut out trails. Crushed ice, compacted into a density similar to gravel and showered with snow. Laylah led Jacob down with her from the stable outcropping where their tent was situated at. Now that he noticed, many of the places of residence that they had taken up were on higher ground. Back in the desert, they stood atop a 100-foot mesa. Now, they were on a flat level some 3/4 up on an iceberg. He cared to ask her why.

"In all of the places that we were on higher ground, were we ever attacked?" That brought a point to him. Lamarck was down in a place where other entities had easy access to their residence. They preferred the remote, harder to reach land.

"You know, we could be traveling like gods among humans if we went freely without disguise. I mean, we have you, an angel," he said back as they casually leaped across a deep crevasse. Once upon a time, he would've feared such a daring act, but now with his ability of flight and magyck, there was no concern for these mortal happenings.

She glared at him. He thought back to what he said, and mentally slapped himself. "Ah, that's right. God." Do not take his name in vain.

"Personal survival. Never rely on others to do the things that keep you alive. I'm trying to teach you how to live independently of others here. Now stretch."

They had arrived down to the trails. His boots really worked as they slid down the icy slopes. The sun was out and shining now, but the glacier wasn't weeping. That wouldn't cause any complications in traction for the running they were going to do.

He obeyed her commands without question and bent down to touch his toes. For a youthful male, he was reasonably flexible. He bent back his foot and held it next to his posterior for a few seconds before switching over to the other side. Laylah was doing some flex training herself. It involved many a painful thing that he knew he could never hope to do.

"It's called yoga." She came up out of a downward dog and gave a heavy breath. "I'll force it upon you one day, but not today."

In now way was he reassured by that. He finished his stretches and jogged in place for a bit to get the feeling of activity to his limbs. Gazing out into the distance, he asked, "What's our plan for today?"

"We are going to first train your mind and body to obey your will."

"How are we supposed to do that?"

She grinned.

"By running until I say stop."

Jacob groaned. He couldn't help it. Laylah's version of toughness and torture was just too much.

"Alright, I'll do this. But I haven't done much physical preparation for this in the past few days. You know, we haven't even explored the caverns of this place yet. This place is amazing; I just want to walk around and explore or something."

"No. Have some discipline over yourself. The path to self-improvement is pushing you to your limits, and then going beyond that after your body has nothing left. You yourself have seen the results after traversing that desert."

She was right of course. He had crossed that desert, injured, crazed, and half-dead. Such is the motivation of survival. "But if you go beyond what your capabilities are, it can become dangerous for you."

Laylah nodded.

"We aren't going to do that today. What you perceive as your limits is false. The body if your greatest tool, and it is much stronger than what your mind leads you to believe. It is only a natural part of survival that we hold ourselves back, to conserve our strength, to do the bare minimum and leave it at that. Your mind has led you to stay within the limits of safety, thus why you are so weak and afraid. Apprentice, today we are going to reprogram your mind by breaking your body."

Jacob groaned loudly and ran his hand through his hair. His claw-tipped fingers brushed up against his growing horns.

"I promise you this, once you break your mind to comply to your will, all other tasks at hand will come with ease. Of utmost importance, master your mind. Know your body and its true limits. Armed with that knowledge, you will attain much more."

"Like becoming the Overlord of all demons?"

"Even that." He couldn't tell if she was humoring him or being serious. Looking at her stern, unchanging face, he decided on the latter.

"Alright. I'll do this."

She nodded, this time in approval. She tossed him a waterskin, which he caught reflexively right out of the air instead of the usual fumble and drop. The liquid inside sloshed around with a comforting heavy weight.

"Drink that one up. All of it. You're going to need it. There will be more at every two miles that we go."

Laylah started by jogging firs,t setting a pretty quick pace that it forced Jacob to catch up with her. His muscles were screaming after only five minutes of running. In truth, he could have done a better job of stretching out, but he was constantly distracted by Laylah's stretching. Her movements were so elaborate and foreign that they were a show in and of itself. She had long, toned legs crafted into perfection to match those sycophantic movements.

After she was stretching, Laylah pulled her shoulder length hair up and tied it into a ponytail. It revealed her small and thin neck. Every part of her face from her sharp cheekbones and almond shaped dark red eyes from her curved lips and narrow chin was shown. This collection of features was in and of itself a distraction to any male. But Jacob was immune to her charms.

This is a good time to start discussing Jacob's sexuality and sense of attraction. To be completely honest and forthwith, he has none. The only woman he ever seemed to love was his mother and no other. He was blind to all other approaches. Even when there were female demonic temptresses in town, he would always question why the rest of the boys were so riled up.

"I mean, they just have sacks of fat dangling from their chest and a pretty face. Is that all that you're into?"

"Nah man, it's all about the tail."

"What? I thought it was all about the scales?"

Jacob admits that Laylah is a fine looking woman, but that isn't what it's all about. It was the yoga movements that Laylah did that transfixed him. The movements were painful and powerful at the same time, although some of that backward bending head over heels seemed something that was beyond him. Now though, as they reached an icy hill, he wished he had the willpower to glance away and do his own thing. Next to him, Laylah was steadily jogging, her high, calf-covering boots crushed the compacted ice and snow under her feet.

There were rules, though. Two of them.

"You do not stop unless I tell you to stop. You do not run off because you can't run off. I will catch you before I even have to find you."

They rounded a bend in the trail's course. He appreciated what Laylah had done here. She mixed and matched the terrain so that it carried them to new sights upon every turn. It gave him a fantastic view of the northern sea. All this time, he had been fascinated by the mountain of ice that he lived on, never bothering to take the chance to take a look at the world at large. Now that he did, it was breathtaking.

Leagues upon leagues of water surrounded them. The northern breeze cut in layers of cold that were like steel to any exposed flesh on his body. Every so often, he would spot another float of ice that drifted by in the opposite direction they were heading. South. He was heading North, to the place that would have been his hometown, in another place, in another time.

Just the thought of the past brought hot wetness to his eyes. He then stumbled on the path, nearly twisting his ankle in the process.

Laylah glanced back at him in concern. "You are-"

"Not to stop," he finished. He righted himself and went back to the pace he was going at. "Sorry, was lost in thought."

Laylah turned away to hide the ghost of a smile that was forming on her hips. It was something akin to gladness that he was finally warming up to her. "I would try to save my breath if I were you, cause we're gonna speed up."

And with that, the already fast pace she was maintaining turned into an almost-sprint. He followed her lead and clopped on for another twenty minutes. True to her word, a water sack awaited them in what he could assume to be every two miles. He downed the water without complaint, letting the cool liquid soothing the scratchiness of this throat.

Rounding the bend, they continued onward. The circumference of the iceberg could be estimated at being about 2 miles as he saw the same scenery over and over. Not that there was anything to judge by now that they were out in the open sea, but he noticed things. That stray grey rock perched protruding from a patchwork of crystal lattices. Or that copse of stalactites under a small cave. Never mind the scenery, Laylah just sped up again.

He tried to run side by side by her, and it worked, for a time. His body started to wear down, making his breath come out quicker. His calve muscles burned from the exertion and it wasn't just the calves that were hurting, but his core too. His sides were wracked by the ache of cramps and at the pace she was setting, he had no choice but to tighten his abdominals and suck it up. When she spurred forwards again, he almost fell in trying to exert the force needed to quicken his legs.

"What- *pant, pant* what are you doing? S-slower...will ya?"

Her response came out firm and steady, without a hint of exertion. "I told you to keep running."

"I am running! At the speeds you're going, *aggh* I don't even know what it's called!"

"If you have enough effort to talk, then the pace we're going isn't fast enough for you."

He remained quiet. Time passed as they ran on silently. When one gives in to the task, all other things in the background seem to fade away. The icy air was refreshingly cool on his heated skin. Each impact his feet stamped into the ground sent the a resounding shock-wave that jarred all the way up to his skull. Over the many laps that they went through, over the many water sacks that he drained, this compounded into a bloody headache.

When the next water sack came, he downed it without hesitation. It helped ease the many pains he was going through, but it didn't have the same effect as the first sack. Even while drinking, they were still running and when he couldn't finish the entirety of it in one swig, he poured the rest of the water over his head. They continued on. His breaths were now so ragged, he sounded like some mortally wounded beast. And he wasn't some dumb beast to be led by the rope on a death run. That fact pissed him off more than anything.

When Laylah increased her speed again, he maintained the same pace he was going at before. When she noticed he wasn't following along with her, she shouted, "Jacob, get your ass over here!"

"I CAN'T!" he shouted, venting out all his pent up frustrations.

"Move it!" she yelled back. This was turning into a shouting match.

"i can't," he said weekly, all that vigor from before had vanished. He fell down to his knees, not caring that the crushed ice had the texture of rough gravel, and the little prickly devils were digging into his skin. Gone. All of his energy was gone, depleted in this little farce of an exercise.

Laylah stopped running and turned back, sauntering towards Jacob's kneeling form on the ground.

"Get up."

He shook his head meekly.

"This is the moment where you decide, Jacob. We've barely gone the six miles that we need and here you are, broken and lying on the ground. Only cowards are deserving of the ground. Get off of it, and keep running."

He wanted to. He really wanted to, but he just couldn't. The strength that Laylah exhibited was awe-inspiring, hell, he didn't even know how a short woman like her could run. She tossed him another water sack, but even that didn't do anything. His lungs were lit ablaze and his stomach was revolting against his very being. On the state of his shirt, it was soaked to say the least. He just needed to stop moving.

She stood high and proudly above Jacob, her form casting shadow and shade above him. Like an avenging angel come forth to deliver punishment upon the undeserving. Her wings were tucked into her back when she ran, just like his wings were tucked in to minimize drag and air resistance. Now, she unveiled them in full display.

"Jacob, look at me."

He peered up to her standing figure from the ground. There was anger in her voice, but when he looked into her eyes, that anger wasn't shown. Instead, there was a slight hint of approval.

"Is this familiar to you?"

"What? You trying to kill me?" he lashed out. "It's too familiar."

She shook her head. "This is the exact same position when we first met, I found you almost dead in the desert. You had survived a severe gash in your right side and had been walking on for miles away from the closest thing that could resemble civilization. And you're still alive."

She kneeled down by his side and held him close as he took in breath after ragged breath, never-minding the fact that he was drenched in sweat. His breathing eventually calmed to more stable levels before she spoke her next words. "Would you like to know how far we ran?"

Oh dear. He had failed her expectations and now she was going to kill him. He wasn't strong enough. No, not like her. Why was he so weak?

"About five and a half miles, a little less than six," he mumbled.

She shook her head and smiled.

"Closer to seven a half."

His eyes widened and his mouth formed into a small o. "Wai-wait what? Seriously?"

She nodded. "I'm not lying."

"B-but, the water sacks were 2-mile markers..." his words pattered off into silence before he broke it with a rattle of laughter.

"Hahaha, *cough* oh I see. You lied. The water was placed at different intervals than you led me to believe."

Laylah smiled mischievously. "Yes. Doing so made your mind think exactly on what you thought you could handle. Your body didn't stop when it reached six miles because your mind didn't think so. I half expected you to stop a little past the third water skin, yet you kept on going. My question to you, is how?"

He looked down at the ground. "To be honest, I don't even know. It's not like any secret power or anything. I wanted to make you proud and wasn't going to stop until you said stop. You're really strong Laylah, you're everything that I want to be. The thing is, I'm just not."

She chuckled and stood up. "And you're absolutely right. You're not me. You and I are very different, not just in our physical way, but in our psyche as well. You have your own reservoirs of strength, Jacob. Use them."

"I don't even know what they are. I don't even know where to begin."

"Sure you do. Survival. You survived a far worse fate when you were in the desert. That was life or death and you made it to the living side-"

"Just cause you were there," he muttered.

"-my point is, you've been through tougher times. Living with me now doesn't have that same effect of survival of the fittest or deathmatch or anything like that. You're in a safe environment where you can only hope to simulate the true ecosystem of living. This makes you complacent. Your body doesn't want to reach those limits on fear of burning out. But unless you push yourself, you're never going to improve."

He finally got up himself and wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. "Well, I guess. I'm curious, though, how long were you planning on keeping me going if I hadn't stopped?"

"We could've gone on for quite some time."

"But how far do you think we could've gotten?"

"Hmm, if we kept up that pace, we could've gone on and on for miles."

"Are you serious? How?"

"I can run say ten miles or so in 45 minutes." The very thought of this was insanity to him. This woman was insane. She can contort her bodies to reach places that are physically impossible and run on at reckless speeds.

"You're not lying are you? This is all possible, right?"

"I wouldn't lie. Not to you anyways."

He took a deep breath, and without considering the consequences of his next words, said, "So how long until I can get to do that?"

"That all depends on you and how hard you push yourself. It could take months, or much sooner than that." She gave pause and stared at him, "You want it sooner, huh?"

He flashed a shameless grin, "You know it. When can I beat you up, old lady?"

"You're too young to even entertain the thought, youngling."

They took a different route at a light jog back to their ever so spacious tent. The perspiration they racked up with that morning run had long dried up in this icebergy air. Laylah crinkled her nose at Jacob's scent.

"Grab a change of clothes and a towel. We're bathing. No way you're going in there and stinking my tent up like a stable."

He nodded, much too tired to complain. He couldn't agree with her more. This stickiness was too unpleasant.

They went down the mountain again, this time, to a different place. At the bottom of the mountain, there was an entrance to a tunnel that led them down deep beneath the visible tip above sea level. The temperature down here dropped down to a considerably cooler temperature. Down here, the sunlight above would never reach and things got real dark real fast.

"אור - light" Jacob whispered. Small balls of white, luminescent werelight popped up above the ceiling that they were in. The clear, cut cavernous walls shone icy blue. The ground itself was flat, dry and stable with no chance of them slipping. Down a few more meters, the air started to warm and become foggier. Breaking through the haze of water vapor, the tunnel widened out into an expansive cavern. In the center was a pool of steaming water. Off to the sides, there were two rooms where one could shower and cleanse themselves. This made the center pool to be a soaking ground.

Jacob and Laylah both parted in different directions, she took the right chamber and he the left. In the bathing stall, Jacob quickly stripped down out of his soiled clothes until he was bare. There were two buckets in here, one with warm water, and the other with cold water. There was a carved out stand to his right that contained a scentless bar of soap and a washcloth.

It was noticeably dark in here and for good reason too. Darkness entailed privacy and living with an unpredictable woman could result in many a thing going wrong. He quickly scrubbed himself down and poured cold water over himself. A cool shower always felt more refreshing after a workout.

When showering, he often found that it was the best time to think. He had been meaning to ask Laylah what was the point of all this, pushing himself. He knew exactly the purpose, it was to get him better at doing things in the extreme. It's just, why running? He could be training in flight and that could be much more useful than just running on the ground.

After dumping the remainder of the cold water, he watched as it automatically refilled. Like magic. Well, it was magic. He still had a hard time adjusting to the fact that he could make things that were thought of as physically or even theoretically impossible possible. He studied hard, read the texts and understood the concepts, but it was still something that took getting used to. It was just too easy. Or maybe not.

He thought back to the time where he tried levitating a rock off of the ground under Laylah's supervision. The laws of magic entailed that an energy source equivalent to performing the task at hand through physical means was needed. That exercise was strenuous enough to make him see black spots in his vision.

Over time, though, with more practice, he would get better. As he trained his body and his mind, tasks once thought of as colossal would become a mere chore, something that could be easily dismissed with the flick of a wrist or the wave of a hand. He would improve his efficiency in the magics so that there would be a minimized energy loss.

He shook the water out of his hair and ran a towel through it. Showers were where he had the best thoughts to himself. After drying himself, he wrapped the towel around his torso and headed out towards the hot bath.

Laylah beat him there to it and was already lying and soaking up the warmth. He tugged at the knot of his towel, it unraveled to reveal his bare form. Oh, no matter. The steam cover in here was moderately thick enough to leave some stuff to the imagination. He gently slid into the pool, blindly feeling around the bottom of the pool with his hooves to test its depth. There was a ledge near the edge where he could sit and lean back. It was important to keep his distance from Laylah as far as possible.

'Ahhh, this feels soooo good." The water's ripples lapped at his chest. He rested his neck on the icy edge of the pool. It was a phenomenon. How does ice not melt at such high temperatures?

"Enjoy it, this was well-deserved." He heard a loud sigh come from the opposite side of the pool.

"This is a very nice setup that you have here. Plumbing, ventilation, but I have to ask, how are you able to keep the water heated?"

Now there was a splash from the opposite side of the pool. He heard the rippling and parting of water. Was it his imagination or were the noises really coming closer? "L-laylah?" he called out nervously and straightened up.

A slender hand touched his bare shoulder. He shouted and jumped off of his ledge into the deeper end of the pool. He stumbled and then slipped, he lost his footing and his head went under the water with a resounding splash.

It was at that moment that he knew he was doomed. He flailed his arms wildly, searching for anything to pull him out. Panic seized control of his mind and he was silently screaming. Bubbles escaped from his mouth. There was a tightening in his chest. He couldn't breathe. Help.

A hand plunged down and seized one of his flailing limbs. The thing is, it was his foot. He was yanked out of the water feet-first, having his head dangling just a few feet dangerously from the water's surface. He coughed and sputtered out a stream of water from his lungs. Craning his head upwards, he could see Laylah with her wings beating madly to support both of their combined weights.

"You're really heavy you know?" she huffed. She lugged him back to the edge of the pool, where he coughed up just about the entirety of the liquids he inhaled. He hacked up all that he could, but there was still a burning sensation at the back of his throat that would only go away with time.

"You can't swim, huh?" Laylah panted. She was naked too, but Jacob never got the chance to see. She slapped his face to the side, averting his eyes.

"I don't care if you're injured. Never gaze upon a woman's body with indecency in your mind." She pattered over to one of the side rooms and came back fully robed.

"Yes, I can't swim." His gaze finally locked on her face again. "Just take a look at these legs. They're not made for swimming."

They were hooves, of course, miserable hooves. They say wildebeests were most vulnerable when crossing rivers. The sick and the young who fell behind were left to the crocodiles.

"Doesn't mean that you can't swim. Magic is might. But then again, this is just one more thing we have to work on." You could almost hear the disappointment in her voice, but Laylah was being particularly nice in not letting it show…too much. "Well, that's our mission for the day and tomorrow. You're going swimming!"

Jacob scowled. The thought held very little appeal to him. He had never been fond of deep water. He had a history with it too, to avoid the river at all occasions as possible

She wrapped up his shivering form in a blanket and dragged him away from the hot baths. They ushered through the low-roofed icy corridors, still alit with ghostly werelight that cast the walls in a tinge of blue. Emerging from the tunnel with frosty breath, they decided to walk back to base camp.

On the way, Jacob's feet couldn't stop stumbling over. He wasn't sure if it was tiredness or the embarrassment. His body trembled at the cold and his dripping wetness only served to exacerbate the situation.

Laylah looked upon him with pity and decided that the boy had gone through many a turbulent trail today. She took the easy way out and unfurled her white-and-black wings and cradled him up bridal style. His eyes widened, but he took it all in stride, shrugging it off as just another event in this awfully crappy day. Jacob snuggled closer into Laylah's embrace and tried to drown out the cold as well as his worries. Tomorrow is going to be a better day. Tomorrow's going to be a better day. To-

Yawn.

Vision blacks out.

* * *

Back from my two-month long hiatus. Reason? Life. Junior year in high school teaches you the meaning of procrastination, desperation, and the art of bullshit.

Stomach growling so much you gotta eat to shut it up. Food is such an inconvenience at times. Uggh, too weak to continue working. Brb.

*Note - a sight on Jacob's run: Carolyn Monastra – "giant tabular iceberg, Antarctica 2011"


End file.
